


Tales of the Apprentice

by The_Lazy_Took



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lazy_Took/pseuds/The_Lazy_Took
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the lives of the dwarves during their various apprenticeships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.1

The table had been cleared, and the last of Ori's favorite stew had been scrubbed from four empty bowls. As they settled and loosened their belts, Lumi set a teacup in front of each of her sons, and poured put four steaming servings of chrysanthemum white tea. Everyone inhaled the fragrance tenderly as the kettle was set in the middle of the table, next to an enormous plate of raspberry and creme cheese sourdough pastries. Lumi tilted the plate towards her youngest son, who happily took first pick of the braided confections.

Today was a day filled with Ori's favorite things.

"It's a very special age, thirty-six," chimed Lumi in her thick Erebor Khuzdul, and she passed the plate to her second son, then her eldest.

"I still remember when your brothers chose their trades. Feels like just last week, myyyy." She sighed, and finally took a pastry for herself. "Now, as I’ve talked about yo you before dear, we have all arranged a lot of options for you to choose from. But no matter what, Amaa will support your choice. This is a very big decision to make, so consider it carefully, hmm Ori?"

Ori pursed his lips and nodded, stirring creme and sugar into his tea.

"Right, so," his mother continued. "As far as our Oriyith's options go, remember that you are absolutely more than welcome to come into the Tea trade with Amaa and Brother Dori."

At this Dori nodded sagely. He was very much like his mother, with a round jolly face and perfect shiny hair, and considered himself to be something of a gentledwarf. As such, he added only a dignified bit of honeycomb to his tea, adding confidently: "It's such a nice trade, Ori. You'd be able to spend a lot of time with Amad and me, and you could learn at your own pace. The shop is always very fragrant, so there aren’t many stressful days. And our business is thriving; lots of dwarves in and out of the shop-- and lots of dwarrowdames too." Dori and Nori grinned at each other, earning an eyeroll and a nudge from their mother.

"Or if you'd like to,” said Lumi, ”you have the option to join the Locksmiths' Guild like your brother, Nori."

Nori rested his chin on his fist, focusing his sharp, foxy eyes on Ori. As for him, who had rather a long clever face and deep red hair, he liked a bit of bitterness, and so left his tea plain. He seemed to consider for a moment, then took a draw on his tea.

"Aye, aye, you've got nimble enough fingers for locksmithery, but it requires good ears and a quick and curious mind as well, if you think you're up for it."

Ori swallowed. Those intricate and secret mechanisms interested him very little. While he might have the patience to take a lock apart once and map out its insides, he doubted very much that he could do it every single day of his life. However, he couldn't bring himself to douse the passionate glint in his brother's eyes, so he sipped his tea and pretended to think on it.

"Or would you like to become an apprentice to Baker Aatos?" their mother continued, "Under him, you'd learn to grow yeast and make fragrant breads. Eventually, you'd even learn to make the pastries and biscuits we use here at the shop."

Ori looked up. That did seem very promising indeed. Across the entire North district of the Ered Luin, Baker Aatos's creme cheese pastries were definitely the best and his favorites. Although, the prospect of waking up before the birds to commit to hours of hard labor outweighed the appeal of the pastries and their secret recipes. He set the remaining half of his pastry on the plate, giving his full attention to the dwarves around him.

"Or maybe," Lumi began again,"you may like to become an apprentice to Herbalist Kukka? Under her, you'll learn the various properties of herbs, as well as how to seed and propagate flowers and plants. Eventually, you'd help to supply everyone from Amaa's tea shop to the Apothecaries of Ered Luin with them."

Ori went over the possibilities in his mind. There really were so many options, but none of them quite felt like they fit so far. He rolled his teacup in his fingertips.

"Or perhaps," Lumi continued, "would you like to become a student and go to live with the Priests of Mahal? There, you'd spend your days serving your brothers and sisters in the name of Mahal; keeping our traditions, preserving our ancient texts, teaching the children, and creating beautiful art all day. You might even go on to become a Scholar, if you've got the acumen and if it suits you. Although, it's a very modest life you'd live. Your wage would be very low, if you were to receive one at all."

Ori nodded thoughtfully. Although he did not attend Garden School as a child, he knew very well how to read and write, and immensely enjoyed both practices. He wasn't even too bad at drawing, although he was much better at recreating observations than creating pictures from his imagination. It was certainly something he could see himself dedicating his life to, but the prospect of not supporting his household's economy weighed heavy in his heart.

"Or.. would you like to become an apprentice to Scribe Helmi? Under her, you'll learn to be a fine calligrapher, and will someday help to keep our peoples' History and records. You may even venture out and write our histories as they happen, should they happen, or you could keep family ledgers and accounts and such things.

"Or maybe you'd like to go into service under Lord Lari Lasseyul? He's an affluent gentledwarf, and has ties to Balin Fundinul, who in turn advises King Thorin Thrainul. Serving under Lord Lari would allow you to make profitable connections in the future, and he would treat you well and pay you handsomely.."

“Although you don’t have to decide immediately, Oriyith,” She trailed off, standing to refill everyone’s cups. “But I hope you’ll think about it, and let Ama know within the next fortnight, alright?”

 

And so, Ori knit his eyebrows together and scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully. Locksmithing was definitely out, as was servitude under the politician Lord Lari. Nor did he have any interest at all in the care and management of plants, and so he struck Herbalist off the list.

Tea Shop. Baker. Scholar. Scribe..

His arms were far too slim for hours and hours of kneading dough, and he shuddered at the prospect of waking up while it was dark out, and he thus struck Baker from his mental roster as well. And, while he loved his life in the tea shop, Ori definitely had more of a proclivity for drinking tea than for mixing and selling it. Plus, Amaa had Dori, and Dori would inherit the shop. They'd do just fine without him.

This left him with 2 options: Scholar or Scribe.

Ori felt like he was suspended on a rope bridge, with two equally beautiful destinations on either side of him. On the one hand, he loved the idea of being surrounded by other dwarves who loved stories as much as he did, and of the sense of community the scholars society would offer.. And yet, on the other, he also longed for the beautiful calligraphic and story-weaving skills of which every Scribe was possessed.

And yet still, the idea of learning all there is to learn about the past and the present hung baitingly over his head. Ahh, but the freedom and the adventure of capturing history as it happened was also very alluring...

He closed his eyes, his mouth pursing into a line, and thought about his favorite things. The scents of inks and parchment wafted in his mind. The unique sensations of a featherpen and dried ink traced ghosts upon his fingertips. Ori could feel the smooth paper rubbing the heel of his hand, and see the letters crisp and stark against the white of his mind. Slowly, deliberately, he opened his eyes. Everyone was still and quiet, hanging on the tension in the air, their gazes fixed upon the young dwarf.

"I'd like to apprentice to Scribe Helmi." He declared. "I want to become a scribe."

Gentle but grave, Lumi held her son's eyes with her own. "Are you absolutely sure, Ori? Inùdoyukhuma, hmm? This is a decision which can not easily be taken back once it is made."

Ori nodded resolutely. "I think I'll be happy to do it. I really like reading and writing and..."

And adventure!

"Alright then, darling," she smiled. "Tomorrow morning, you and Amaa will go together to meet Lady Helmi, and maybe to draw your contract and discuss your sponsorship, so be sure to take an herbal bath tonight, alright?"

"An excellent choice, Ori!" chirped Dori, who clapped the little dwarrow jovially on his shoulder. "I've always said you have beautiful penmanship. I'm sure you'll love it."

"Not to mention Scribe Helmi is a great beauty," Nori said with a smirk "and so's her daughter, I hear." This earned him a box on the shoulder and an "Oh Nori, go and put a fresh kettle on, we need more tea" from his mother.

Trying not to beam, Ori reached for another pastry. His heart was racing and his face was burning pink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: when it comes to dwarven ages, the rule of thumb for me is pretty much x3. So, Ori's about 12 years old by human standards.
> 
> Note 2: Children in the middle ages who took up apprenticeship were limited by their parents' connections. These are all people with whom Ori's mother is well-acquainted enough because she runs a tea shop, that she might request an apprenticeship for her son.
> 
> Note 3: Priests of Mahal. Basically, a Dwarven monestary. Children in the middle ages could elect to enter nunneries or monestaries, and I wanted that to be an option here.
> 
> Note 4: Garden School. By about the 15th century, there were informal schools set up at monestaries in which children could learn basic reading, writing, and math skills (to prepare them for apprenticeships). The parents of the children would pay a fee to their lord, and the children could attend. Although, if they didn't attend, they might be taught at home or by their Master. I imagine it being taught in a yard somewhere.
> 
> Note 5: Dori was the only brother to attend Garden school. This is because his mother ran the tea shop solo, and didn't have enough free time to teach him to read and write. However, by the time Nori and Ori came around, and Dori was apprenticing under his mother, they both of them had enough free time to teach the younger dwarrows.
> 
> Language notes:  
> Amad - mother  
> Amaa - mum/mommy  
> Maa - ma/mum
> 
> Khuzdul = of the Khuzd (of the dwarves)  
> Fundinul = of Fundin (son/daughter of Fundin)  
> Lasseyul = of Lasse (son/daughter of Lasse)  
> [[[The suffix -ul is used to form patronymics (or adjectivals, but for the sake of ease, I'm going to assume it's a gender-neutral 'namesake' and genitive).]]]
> 
> inùdoyukhuma = my youngest son  
> [[[inùdoy is son. inùdôy is sons. khîm is young. ukhuma is youngest. Because the address is not being used as a compound, I've elected to put the adjective at the end. Whereas, if you were using it as a compound (like in the words Longbeards or Glasslake) it would precede the noun.]]]


	2. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.2

It was half-nine when Lumi and Ori set out for Scribe Helmi's house. Merchants and Farmers had finished setting up their stalls, which were all laden with vegetables and wares and topped with brightly-coloured tarps. The florists had cut their flowers early in the morning, and now the sleeping buds waking up in the warm sun, their perfumes wafting on the air. Toy makers whittled and whistled away behind their tables, which were cluttered with dolls and wooden flutes and anvil-and-stone toys. And at their backs, down the street, Dori was bustling around in the tea shop, and greeting its first customers.

Ori's eyes drifted this way and that, falling and resting upon the bakery, upon the cats running between the stalls, upon the khuzdûn with baskets full of trinkets in their arms who called out to passers-by. He looked at anything that wasn't himself, although it all occupied his thoughts very little. In fact, Ori's heart was racing. What if Scribe Helmi didn't want to take him on as an apprentice? What if she thought he wasn't good enough? What if she didn't like him? What if she only wanted dwarrowdames as apprentices?

His eyes wandered around so much that he didn't see much of the ground in front of him. He'd stumbled a few times and so, slinging her wicker basket higher into the crook of her elbow, Lumi placed a hand on her youngest son's shoulder. The gentle scent of flowers wafted up from his plaited hair, which shone like copper chains in the bright morning light. Dori had braided it before they left, and he'd done a very fine job. It was the last thing they needed, for Ori to fall face-first onto the cobbled street because he wasn't paying attention.

In this style, before half-ten, they were on the doorstep of a charming stone house. It was three stories high and narrow, with two rows of square windows on its face and a little chimney stack out its back. Ori thought it looked very much like a book stacked right in the middle of the street. Opening up the door, and with a little chime, his mother stepped right into The Book's spine.

They stood in a receiving room, which was hung all about with mirrored lamps and framed papers. Some were writings, but most were delicate ink portraits or drawings of flowers. In fact, upon the very receiving desk sat a vase of pale flowers, and seated behind it, a black-haired dwarrowdame was hunched over and scrawling something on a parchment (her featherquill waggling as her hand raced across the page).

" _ **A moment, please**_ ," she called in Westron.

" _ **Aye, aye, take all the time you need then,**  _Khuzdinh," Lumi responded, a laugh playing on the edge of her voice.

"Khuzdinh, hmmm?" she looked up, and her face broke into a wide smile which crinkled at her eyes.

"Aaaye! Lady Lumi!" chimed Helmi, who was standing now, and walking around the desk to greet them. She'd streatched her arms and, gently cupping her friend's head, pressed her forehead affectionately to Ori's Mother's. "Lady Lumi my friend, good to see you, ayyyye. Your cheeks are like pretty white peaches!"

Lumi broke into a toothy chuckle as they pulled apart. "Lady Helmi," she chirped. "Your hair is looking so glossy, and your eyes so bright."

A young dwarrowdame, maybe a few years older than ori, came in from around the doorframe. "Ah! Tea-Lady Lumi is here!"

"Ahhh, and how about Helläith, hmm?" Lumi said, peering around Helmi's shoulder. "You look so healthy and strong."

"It's been a while since you visitted us last time," Hellä grinned and bowed, "at your service, Tea-Lady Lumi."

"My, charming girl!" Lumi laughed, and she bowed her head. "At yours and your family's. And this is my youngest son, Ori."

Ori shuddered at the mention of his name, and took a hasty, 90-degree bow. "Ah.. At.. At your service, Scribe Helmi, Lady Hellä. At yours and your family's."

At this, the three dwarrowdames laughed delightedly.

"At your service, Master Oriyith," responded Hellä with a graceful bow.

"Well met, Master Oriyith. At your service," Helmi replied. Taking her daughter into one arm, they both bowed to their guests."Come, come on inside, what've you brought us, Lumi? Ahhhh, rose scones and white rose tea, you absolutely spoil me, haha. This way, please. Helläith, put a kettle on. Heat the water but don't boil it. It should simmer but not boil. Right? Herbal tea doesn't take boiling water, yeah?"

And she continued like this as she switched the sign on the front of the window, and bustled after them into the dining room behind the receiving room. It was also a very bright chamber, with many of her trademark polished plaques hanging on the walls and reflecting light from the windows (which were unshaded by their curtains). Upon a library table, next to the door, sat numerous scrolls with pearly wax seals. Each seal depicted an embossed, ruffled pearl-oyster, with a faint Khuzdul "H" behind it.

"Please, sit down, sit down, sorry for the mess," said Helmi as she piled books and scrolls from the dining table into a box (which she then set uncerimoniously on the floor, next to the library table).

"Bit busy today, Lady Helmi?" Lumi asked, taking a seat and setting her basket on the table. "Have we come at a bad time?"

"No, no," replied Helmi as she sat across from Lumi. "My dear dwarrowdame, no. I make my own schedule, you know it. It's just that we don't usually seat 4 at a time at this table, haha!"

"My well," said lumi, nodding her head. "Thank you for receiving us. I trust you've guessed why we've come today?"

"Oh yessss. Hmm, yes indeed. I believe so. We'd talked about it before." Helmi lifted the basket cover and inhaled the sweet scent of the scones. Her eyes flicked to Lumi, then over to Ori, and she folded her hands on the table. Her pale eyes glinted.

"So you'd like to become a scribe, eh?"

"Y-yes, Scribe Helmi," said Ori, straightening his back and setting his hands on the table.

"Hmm. And can you read? And write?"

"Yes, Scribe Helmi."

"In which languages?"

"Languages?" Ori blinked.

"Which languages? Can you read Elvish? Westron?"

Ori's shoulders slumped a little bit, and he broke sheepishly from her gaze. "I.. I can only read and write Khuzdul. But I can speak Westron pretty well."

"Can you please introduce yourself and your mother to me in Westron right now?"

Ori sat upright again and cleared his throat. " ** _Hello, my name's Ori Jyri-son. I'm 36 years old now. This dwarf Lady is my mother. She's name's Lumi Lucca-daughter. Her age is a secret, though_**." (at which Lumi and Helmi both chuckled).

"Ah well, that's well enough. Well enough. A little marble-y, little gravel-y, but a few years dictating in westron will polish that up and smooth it right out. And have you got any tools?"

Ori looked up at his eyebrows. Do knitting needles and paper count as tools? (maybe not)."Only a few. Three reed pens.. a black ink pot.. and one goosefeather quill."

"And did you make them youself?" inquired Helmi.

"Make what myself, Scribe Helmi?"

"Any of it. Do you know how to make quills or ink?"

Ori lowered his eyes to his knuckles, which had been washed clean of their ink-stains last night. A small embarassment was creeping up into his throat. "N-no, Scribe Helmi. They were all bought for me."

"Ahh well, that's quite alright, dearheart, quite alright," said Helmi, and she sat back in her chair, trying her best to ignore the sweet and tasty treats in front of her. "Thank you very much, Oriyith. As for now, might I ask you to assist Helläith in brewing the Tea? She's not so expertly familiar with it as your family is."

Ori noded and stood up. He tried his best to be smooth as he pushed in his chair and walked across the dining room towards the kitchen door, but his movements were rigid and his mouth was pursed into a line. He pushed through the curtain hanging in the door, and perked up at the sight of Hellä.

 She was leaned against the kitchen bench, facing the kettle. Ropes of her black hair (which make her olive-coloured skin seem fairer) were draped on the sides of her head to meet in a large plated chignon. Her eyelashes curtained her downcast eyes as she pored over a small, loosely-bound book. Ori'd been too intimidated by the women to really get a good look at either of them, but Nori was absolutely right-- they were definitely fantastic beauties.

He shook his head a bit, and blinked, before finally suttering out: "He.. Lady Hellä, Scribe Helmi asked me to help you brew some tea. Do you have a pot?"

"Aye," she said, indicating the tea-tray behind her. She found a place in her papers to leave off on, then rolled up the thin book, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Still waiting on the water though."

"Ah, hmm.." Ori began, not quite knowing what to do with himself in the meantime. He shuffled in place a little bit, and finally settled on: "Hm.. May I ask what it is you're reading?"

"Yes!" Hellä smiled. "It's a fictional story. One of the apprentices to Scribe Onni from north east district wrote it. We're friends; sometimes we exchange stories."

"You write stories as well?" asked Ori, a grin and a blush finding its way onto his face.

She giggled. "Are you asking a scribe's daughter if she writes?"

"Uhm, well.." Ori faltered, finding the ground with his eyes. Heat burned very red on his cheeks now.

Hellä smiled and uncrossed her arms. "Sure I do. I love writing. I wouldn't be here if I didn't love it, hmm? Maybe I'd be a Seamstress or working in your mother's nice Tea shop if I didn't love it, haha."

"I guess, that's true..," replied Ori, who managed to bring his eyes up to her again, albeit bashfully. "What do you like to write then?"

Hellä pressed her lips together and crooked her mouth. As she did, she made a little humming noise, and patted her leg with the rolled-up paper.

"I suppose," she began, "Invitations are my favorite thing to write! I love to duplicate invitations. I really like to know about who's having parties, or who's come of age, who's getting married, or who's had a new baby or something. It feels a little bit like I know everyone in the city when I write their invitations for them."

"Oh," Ori squeaked. "That's very charming."

"As for stories.. hmm... I like to play a game where I write a story for those invitations, sometimes. I imagine the people eating and drinking, or dancing at the wedding banquet, or kissing newborn dwarrows on the head. It's fun, since I can't go with them."

"Ah.."

Ori looked down again, knittig his fingers together. He did his best, but he couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his face.

"And what is it you like to write, master Oriyith? Adventure stories? _Love_  stories?"

Ori stood up straight and looked at his eyebrows. What did he like to write again? He couldn't quite remember. Those stormy grey eyes seemed to erase every thought from his mind and he couldn't think fast enough.

"Well," he finally managed, "I like writing my diary. I really like to write about the things I see, and draw them, and then look at them again later. It's like I'm visitting them again."

"Ahhhhh, well that's definitely nic-- AH! The water's boiling! It's boiling!" Hellä all but flung her book on the benchtop. Gathering up her apron, she folded it, and wrapped it around the kettle's castiron handle, carefully lifting it off of the fire. "Ahh, now what do I do?"

"Well, it's okay if it's boiling. You can pour it into the pot first," Ori responded, "but don't put the tea leaves in yet. Let the water warm up the pot, then pour it into each cup to warm them. After the water cools down a little in the cups, we can add the tea leaves to the pot, and pour the cups back into the pot over them."

"Ah okay," said Hellä, and she did just that, carefully tipping the kettle so that the scalding water ran gently into the red teapot.

Ori watched her carefully over her shoulder.

"I like your house," he chirped. "It smells really nice."

"Hmm," she said, setting the kettle back on the stove, "but I bet a tea house smells a lot better. Even your and your mother's clothes smell good."

"Well," Ori smiled, "it smells different, but not necessarily better. I really love the smell of parchment, so your house smells the best to me."

They smile softly at eachother as they watched the water.

"I think it's okay to add the tea now," Ori had said, when the steam had all disappeared.

Hellä poured some of the dried leaves and rose buds into the pot, then took a cup in hand. As she let fall the water from the cup, she slowly raised it higher and lower. Ori thought it was very much like Dori's technique, the way she delicately grasped each cup's handle with her fingertips. She did this with all four of the cups before finally securing the pot's lid, and picking up the tray. Ori held back the doorhangings for her, and followed her into the dining room.

"My, but the tea smells wonderful, Lumi!" Scribe-Helmi exclaimed. "Yes, Helläith, bring it here, there's my good girl. "  
  
Carefully setting the heavy tray on the tabletop, Hellä handed Ori a stack of small plates, and they two divied out the tea and scones before finally sitting at their parents' sides.

"He's a good lad," Helmi smiled. She arranged a blotting board and parchment, as well as an inkwell and pen. After getting everything situated, she finally took a rapturous bite of her scone. "Now then, in regards to his sponsorship. He'll be needing tools-- a lot more than what he's got now. He'll be needing his own knives, blotting board, scores of parchment, blown-glass bottles, inkstones, you know. As well as a few sets of clothes, socks and things. Does he know how to launder?"

Lumi nodded, her mouth full, and chuckled. "Of course he knows how to launder his own clothes, haha! A busy dwarrodame like me, I don't have time to clean up after three sons everyday. And as far as clothes go, my oldest has taught him to knit, it shouldn't be much of a problem."

Hellä shot a look at Ori and quirked an eyebrow. He shrugged and smiled into his tea.

"Aye?" Helmi continued. "And then there's room and board to consider. The room's easy enough to take care of, the board, not so much."

"Yes, yes," Lumi said, refilling Helmi's cup and pouring herself another cup of tea. "Although, I'd like to have him visit home once a fortnight if possible."

"Of course, if he can get all of his work done, which I'm sure he will. Then that just leaves my apprenticing fee, which is 20 silver.. as for the total..," she scribbled a bit on the paper, writing down everything they'd talked about thus far, and adding things together. When she'd finished, she turned the paper around, and slid it in front of Lumi. "And how are you feeling about this?"

"500 silver, hmm... my esteemed Lady Helmi," Lumi began, leaning one elbow on the table. "It's a little steep. Can you bring it down to maybe 300 silver?"

"300 silver? My fine Lady Lumi," retorded Helmi, who suddenly became very aware of one of her aglets, "It's much too low. Although, I might bring the price down to 450 if you were to contract me as your calligrapher for the year."

"Hmm... Aye, I might do that," Lumi replied, nodding and giving Helmi a sideways glance. "And I might have you and your Helläith to my tea shop for a set, twice a week, free of charge if you'd bring the price down to 350 a year."

Helmi barked out a hearty laugh. "Aye? Aye, aye, that sounds promising. 350 a year it is, then. I'll draw up the contract, haha!" And she plucked herself another of the glazed rose scones.

Ori rocked on the edge of his chair with excitement. This was really happening. Scribe Helmi liked him, and his mother could afford to sponsor him, and he would apprentice under her. Which also meant he'd be spending a lot of time in the company of Hellä, and his stomach gave a great lurch.

"And will you be paying in installments? Or in full?" Helmi asked, handing the beautifully calligraphed contract to Lumi for her signature and seal.

"I can manage 4 installments a year, if that suits you," said Lumi as she pulled the little stone stamp from her breast, and tabbed it into the red seal paste. She pressed it to the contract, and signed her name after it with Helmi's quill.

"Aye, aye, it suits me quite well," replied Helmi, who in turn stamped her seal and signed her perfect signature afterwards. "If that's settled then, he can come in and start on the morrow. I'm not so busy yet."

"Aye, very well, Lady Helmi, very well."

Ori looked at Lady Helmi-- really looked at her. Now that he wasn't so nervous about her disliking him, he could appreciate just what a beauty she was. Like her daughter, she had olive skin, light grey eyes, and thick waves of jet-black hair. She smiled often and heartily, exposing two rows of perfectly straight, pearly-white teeth, and causing her eyes to crinkle around the edges. When Ori looked at her, he felt like he was looking into the heart of a powerful storm.

A while they sat there, Lumi and Helmi shooting the breeze, catching up on all they'd missed, for though they lived only three-quarters of an hour's walk apart, both of their lives and trades kept them busy enough not to have had a long and proper talk in some time.

Until, finally, half-eleven rolled around, and Lumi and Ori bade their farewells to the two ladies, that they might return in time to help Dori with the lunchtime rush. This time, as they walked Ori's heart raced, and he thought excitedly about packing up his belongings and starting at his Guchirînh's house. He would be entering a new chapter in his life-- a chapter full of learning , and new people, and  _stories_ \-- and his joy bubbled up into a beaming grin. 

Next to him, his mother smiled softly as she walked, and told Ori about minding Scribe Helmi and Lady Hellä, about taking care to pay attention and enjoy every new discovery, and about some of the chores he might expect to do at first. And although she was smiling, Ori knew how hard it was for her. He imagined her cleaning out his room to welcome a new apprentice, should the time come that she take one. He thought about her eating dinner at the big empty table with only Dori, and of how much she had cried when Nori first went to live with the Locksmithes' Guild.

And he thought about eating dinner without her at Scribe Helmi's house, with two women he'd only  _heard of_  before today. He imagined himself seated at a writing desk, rather than a corner table in the tea shop, and realized that he'd never been long without his mother before, and that he would only be able to see her once a fortnight (if he worked hard). 

Gently, Ori took his mother's free hand into his own. Her skin smelled faintly of bergamot. Raising her hand to his lips, he closed his eyes briefly, and planted a small kiss to the back of her palm. Neither of them let go for the rest of their walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culture notes:  
> Note 1: Sponsorship. When a tradesperson takes on an apprentice, the apprentice is sponsored by either their parents or family. The Apprentice will live with their masters, and often end up becoming very close to the master's family. It wasn't uncommon for them to become like a second family, to continue on as a worker after their apprenticeship ended, or to marry into their master's family.
> 
> Note 2: Workers vs. Apprentices.  
> Not all Apprentices necessarily achieve mastery levels. Some acquire the necessary skills up through journeymen, then go on as wage workers for other Masters in the guild/trade.
> 
> Note 3: As for Lumi and Dori, Lumi has apprenticed dwarves other than Dori in the past, and they have since moved on to other things. One of her previous apprentices works for her as a wage worker, but because she and Dori have no current apprentices, the only ones in the house are Lumi, Dori, and Ori.
> 
> Language notes:
> 
> khuzdinh -- (feminine) Dwarf (Lady)  
> khuzdûn -- (masculine) Dwarf (Sir)
> 
> -ith -- literal meaning is "Little one" or "who is young"
> 
> [[[I'm using it as a formal ending to address people younger than yourself/in a lower peer group. For example: Young Mistress Hellä = Helläith  
> >Because Ori's name ends in 'i' already, the 'y' is added to 'ith' ending to be Oriyith.]]]
> 
> guchirînh -- Master (feminine)  
> guchirûn -- Master (male)


	3. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partings are never easy.

Ori couldn't sleep at all. No matter how hard he tried, or long he laid in bed, it just wouldn't come. He had tried singing to himself, counting, even drinking a cup of chamomile tea, but nothing could make his mind shut down enough to go to sleep (that is, until he finally passed out from exhaustion). It seemed, though, that the moment he finally closed his eyes, his mother was in his room and shaking him awake.

He went through the motions, pulling on his trousers and his lighter spring tunic, tying his belt, washing hisface, combing his hair, and hauling his bag downstairs.

His mother was there already with Dori, the two of them laying out breakfast: a sliced sweet sausage, three bowls of sop in soup, a pot of ginseng green tea, two cups of red wine, and one cup of honey-sweetened black tea. They'd be walking a long enough way before returning to open shop, and it was a long time off til lunch.

Ori sat at the table with them, his shoulders hunched tiredly, and spooned the sop into his mouth. He felt rather hungry, he realized, from staying up all night. Looking from Dori to his Mother, Ori noted that, like himself, her shoulders seemed to slump a little bit, and she ate rather more slowly than usual. To Ori, she looked as tired as he felt.

His eyes wandered around the kitchen, roaming over all of the tea cups hanging from pegs, the tea pots drying upside down, the kettles, the stoves. Having lived here for as long as he could remember, he could probably navigate its entirety even without the candles shining on the table.

Finally, his eyes fell upon the two bags near the door. "Amaa," Ori asked around a mouth of soup-soaked bread. "What's in the other two bags?"

"Part of it is your sponsorship for Scribe Helmi," she replied, and sipped a bit of her wine. "And another part is gifts for her house, to show her our appreciation in taking you as her apprentice, and in the hopes that our houses can retain a level of good rapport."

"Hmmm..," he hummed, taking a gulp of his black breakfast tea. "Are you and me gonna be able to carry it all the way?"

"Don't need to," Dori chuckled. "I'm coming, too."

"Oh!" Ori happily exclaimed. "I thought you were just waking up to see me off!"

Dori drained his soup bowl, and shook his head.

"Of course I'm coming with you, Ori. You're my baby brother. I'll miss you when you're gone, too, you know!"

Ori poured himself a cup of the ginseng tea. _Dori would miss him_. It made him happy, but it made his heart ache, too.

 

A few tired moments later, they'd polished off their breakfast, and set out towards Lady Helmi's. The sun was just starting to come up when the left the threshold, and most of the town was quiet and still, all save for the Bakery, whose chimney puffed out wisps of smoke against the grey-blue sky. _Glad I didn't choose that_, Ori thought, and the three of them shuffled though the now-empty market place, their footsteps clapping pleasantly on the cobbled streets.

Ori let his eyes wander a little sullenly over the familiar streets near his home. He mapped out the stalls in his mind, which would be setting up in three hours. He imagined the toy maker, the silk merchant, the basket men, and the children who walked in groups to Garden school. He thought of them all flocking to the tea shop with parched throats at half-noon, and of their laughter and chatter and singing. For the better part of the journey, he thought of it all fondly.

 

"Now, you be sure to mind Scribe Helmi very well, Ori," Lumi said, as they came around the corner and towards The Book. "You'll be living in her house for the next fifteen years, and it can either be very pleasant, or very unpleasant, depending on your attitude. Mind her well, and be kind and sage."

Ori nodded, pursing his lips together. "I will, Amad," he replied. "I'll be sage. And I'll come visit you and Dori when I can."

She smoothed her hand over his hair, and Ori took her hand in his. His heart pounded in his throat, and tears prickled at the back of his eyes, but he resolved not to cry. Today was a happy day as well, and the sun had finished waking up.

 

Somehow, almost as if instantly, they'd closed the distance between themselves and The Book, and were knocking on it's spine. Someone shouted from inside, and they knew they only had seconds left of precious privacy.

"Oh! Ori!" Dori said suddenly, pulling a hand from his pocket. He was holding a folded up piece of paper. It looked rather new, the creases made very recently.

"From Nori," he said, handing it to Ori. "It's a map of this part of the city surrounding Scribe Helmi's house. He gave it to me yesterday while you and Maa were out, but I'd forgotten. He'd said he wanted you to have it, so that you don't get lost."

Ori took it delicately in both hands, staring at it. It felt heavy, and it made his heart heavy. Scrunching up his mouth, he blinked away the tears that were heating up his eyes, and carefully placed the folded map in his pocket.

"Tell him thanks for me, when you see him?"

Dori chuckled and clapped Ori on the shoulder. "Whenever I see him."

The lock on the door clicked, and it swung open with a chime. However, the dwarf standing in the doorway was most definitely _not_ Scribe Helmi.

Much like Helmi, he had a round, olive-skinned face, but he was posessed of a wide and flat nose, impossibly dark eyelashes, and icey blue eyes. He, too, had thick black hair, which was braided and rolled around pins on the back of his head. His thick black beard cascaded in rich waves down his chest, which was charmingly barrelled (although not as thick as Dori's). Or had never seen anyone like him.

"Ohhh, Lord Ukko! It's certainly been a long time!"Ori's mother chimed and held out a hand.

"Lady Lumi!" He barked, taking Lumi's hand and pressing it to his forhead in a bow. "Well met! Well met! We're just about to break fast, please, come in and join us." And then he called over his shoulder: "Helmiyith! More meal! Lady Lumi has arrived with her sons!"

"Not today I'm afraid, Lord Ukko," Lumi replied, hitching up the bag on her shoulder. "Though your hospitality warms me. We'll have to be getting back to the teashop right away if we want to open it on time. And I'm sure if I were to come in, Helmi and I would end up chatting all morning."

"Isn't that the truth of it, though!" Helmi laughed, bustling around Ukko to press her forehead to Lumi's.

"Good morning, Master Oriyith," Helmi chimed, pulling away from Lumi with a smile. "Ohhhh, _sons!_ And if it isn't Doriyith! My, but you're growing into a handsome young gentledorf! Just look at that hair! And those arms!"

"Thank you very much, Lady Helmi," replied Dori. He couldn't supress the wide grin stretching across his face, and so he bowed deeply. He'd always been rather proud of his shining copper tresses and expert, intricate braids. "At your service."

"At your service," and with this, Helmi gave an incline of her head.

"Here's the first installment, Helmi," said Lumi, sliding her bag from her shoulder and handing it to her friend.

"Ah yes, very well, very well I thank you," said Helmi, and she accepted it with a small bow before delegating it to Ukko.

"And this is a little something for your house. Dori," Lumi continued with a wave of her hand, and Dori was sliding his bag off and handing it to Helmi as well.

"Ohhhh, thank you, Lumi, how kind," Helmi replied, taking it in arm as well.

Lumi turned to face her youngest son. Her eyes were shiney, her cheeks particularly rosey, and her lip wibbled a little bit. Crouching down to meet his eye level, she pulled Ori into a crushing embrace, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.

"Oh Ori, my big khuzdith," she cried, and pulled back to look him in the eyes. Though the tears hadn't yet fallen, they shone very wetly on her eyes. Her hands were still on both of his shoulders. "Amad loves you so much. And Brother Dori and Brother Nori, we all love you so much, and everyone wants you to succeed. Please do your best, ok?"

Ori nodded slowly, keeping eye-contact. "I will, Amaa. I love you, too."

She hugged him one more time for good measure, then stood back up.

Looking her friend in the eyes, Helmi held her shoulder with a smile.

"Don't you worry, Lumi. We'll take good care of him, and send him your way in a few weeks," she said, and then cracked a mischievous grin. "Or maybe a bit sooner, if I'm feeling in the mood for more of those rose scones, haha!"

Lumi smiled and gave a short bow of her head. "Of course, haha, any time, my dear dwarrowdame. Thank you."

She retreated to the arm of her eldest son, and together they started down the road. Helmi and Ukko both waved-- and Ori-- and occasionally Dori and Lumi looked back and waved too. But just before they turned the corner, Lumi's shoulders heaved, and she pressed her face to her hands. Dori patted her back until they were out of sight.

 

"Hellä's just making breakfast now. Why don't you let Ukko take this up to your room for you?" Helmi suggested gently, sliding Ori's bag off and handing the bag in her arms to Ukko. Placing a gentle hand on Ori's shoulder, she guided him first into the receiving room. The door chime clinked softly behind them as Ukko shut the door, and the three of them made their way towards the dining chamber. Ukko, however, continued up the stairs to the left of the entryway, leaving Ori and Helmi alone to seat themselves across from one another at the table. Like at Ori's house, there was a pot of breakfast tea in the middle of the table, although this one smelled like black tea.

"Are you hungry, Oriyith?" Helmi began, pouring him a cup of tea, and then one for herself. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, Scribe Helmi," he nodded, taking a hot sip. The tea was flavoured with bergamot, and a sharp pang struck in his heart. "I ate breakfast with Dori and Amad before we walked here."

"Ahhhhhh, well, if you're not hungry, of course you don't have to eat, but if you'd like to, you can certainly eat again. That's a lot of walking for so early in the morning, and we won't be partaking again until lunchtime, haha!" Helmi replied. "And, since I'm your master now, you can just call me Guchirinh, or Lady Helmi, if you like."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

"I've put your bag on your bed, Oriyith," called Ukko as he descended the stairs and entered the dining room. Patting Ori's shoulder as he walked past, he sat himself on Helmi's left side (who offered him a cup of tea), and Ori couldn't help his eyes flicking to the unfamiliar dwarf.

"Ahhhh.This Ukko here, he's Hellä's father and my husband," Helmi explained, and Ori nodded his head to him. "He works for the tanner across town. In total, our family consists of Ukko, Myself, Hellä, and our son Veikko, although he's gone to apprentice with the Locksmithes' Guild."

"Oh!" Ori perked right up. "My older brother Nori is in the Locksmithe's Guild, too."

"Yes," Helmi nodded with a smile. "Under Locksmithe Sepi, isn't that correct?"

"Yes! But how did you know?"

"My son is apprenticed under Locksmithe Topi, who is Locksmithe Sepi's twin. I believe they study together at times."

 _No wonder hew knew about Lady Helmi,_ Ori thought. _That sneaker. He was friends with her son the whole time._

Before Ori could think too much on it, Hellä had entered the kitchen with 4 bowls of fruit-and-honeyed oatmeal, and a very cheerful "Good morning, Oriyith!"

"G-good morning, Lady Hellä," Ori replied as she set a bowl in front of him, and seated herself at his side. And although he wasn't hungry at all, he resolved himself to eat every last bit of the oatmeal she'd made.

"Nah, You don't have to call me 'Lady' now," she chirped, pouring herself some of the black tea. "Since you live here now, and we're both apprentices, you can call me Helläihn."

"A-ah.. Hm," was all he could manage, shyly spooning his oatmeal in the bowl.

"As for Today, Oriyith," began Helmi. "Today is an ink day. That means we'll start fresh batches of black ink. Some of the supplies we already have at home, but many of the ingredients we require must be fresh. And so, while Helläith tends to the shop, you and I will be going to the market square near hear to buy some supplies, as well as to the Tanner's. Ah, can you set aside some hide glue for me?" At this point, she patted Ukko's full cheek, and he nodded in reply.

Ori perked up. He was sure he'd spend the first day adjusting and doing household chores, and he was pleasantly surprised to be jumping right into scribe work instead. He looked now at Helmi with curious and focussed eyes.

"Helläith and I will be teaching you how to make 2 different types of ink today, Oriyith, so we'll be walking around town quite a bit. It's very convenient, seeing as you're not so familiar with the north side, and seeing as you'll be able to meet a lot of our suppliers in one go.

"After you're done with your breakfast, you'll be helping Helläith with the dishes. Every morning save week's end, we wake up at 7 and eat breakfast together at 7:30. We usually eat light breakfasts, because our jobs aren't very labour-intensive, and whosoever doesn't cook, helps clean, but Helläith'll help you out for the first week or two, Ok?"

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh," Ori nodded. He'd woken up at 7:00 at home, too, but it was definitely better to take turns cooking and cleaning than being delegated all of the dishes like he was at the tea house.

"You'll have an allowance every month," Helmi continued,"and a bit of free time everyday. You may spend both however you like, although I would suggest saving the allowance where you can. And thrice a week, we'll go to the public bath house."

Ori spluttered his tea. "I.. I-I-I've never been in a public bath house before," he choked out. The tea shop had a yard with a wall around it, and he'd always enjoyed herbal baths in the wooden tubs in the back garden. He wondered solemnly about what sort of places the bathhouses were..

"What a pity, they're really comfortable!" Hellä chimed as she patted his back. "The dwarf-owned ones always have mineral baths. It feels like you're soakin the mountains into your skin and bones."

Ori blushed ferverently at the idea of Hellä's hands and neck, pinkened from a fresh bath. He swatted in front of his face, as if to bat away the thought, and sipped his hot tea.

"You'll probably be needing one today, too!" Helmi laughed. "Making ink is dirty work. I'll be giving you a separate set of inking clothes, and an apron as well. Remind me when we go to market, Helläith."

There was a light clink as Ukko gathered up his empty breakfast dishes.

"Ahhh, time already?" cried Helmi, and Ukko pressed a kiss to her fuzzy cheek.

"Yes, I'm going now," he said, and then he gently kissed the top of Hellä's head. As he walked by, he patted Ori's shoulder jovially, and continued out of the chamber, calling behind him: "Welcome to our house, Master Oriyith."

 

Before he knew it next, Ori was standing on the shop's doorstep, bidding Hellä goodbye, as Helmi closed the door with a soft tinkle. A mild breeze blew over his skin, and the spring sun was shining yellow in a lightly-clouded sky. His first day as an apprentice scribe was finally about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language notes:  
> "Be sage"-- Dwarves tell their children to be sage, rather than to 'be good.' This is because they believe every dwarf is inherently good, and so by telling their children to be sage, they're telling their children to be considerate and mindful of other's feelings.
> 
> Guchirinh -- Master (feminine)
> 
> -ihn ending -- literally a dwarvish feminine ending. I'm using it to indicate some female dwarf within your peer group who is older than you.  
> -ûn --literally a dwarvish masculine ending. I'm using it to indicate some male dwarf within your peer group who is older than you.


	4. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori goes to market with Scribe Helmi to buy some supplies and familiarize himself with the Northern district of Ered Luin, where meets lots of new people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The supplies + ink making was so long, I split it into 2 chapters. Sorry!

"There are a few little stalls here in the circle," began Helmi (who walked much faster than Ori could have predicted), "But the big market is a few streets over. If we go straight out of the house, this way, and keep going past three crossroads, we'll come upon the town's center. If you ever get lost, head for the town's center. It's easy enough to find your way back from there."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

"As for Today," she said, glancing back at him, "I want you to try your best to remember the prices at the stationary tent, because it'll be important later."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

"We've got a lot of things to buy this morning, so it'll be a bit troublesome to carry it all back by ourselves, but it's not typical. When you go with Hellä next time, it should be a lot lighter than what we'll be lugging back today."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

She stopped, and turned back to him with a grin. "That's a good boy, Oriyith, so polite." Chuckling, she turned again and continued in her quick gait.

A pony-drawn wagon passed them on the street, laden with boxes of vegetables. Fresh from this morning, Ori supposed. He did not envy the farmers, who woke up at roughly the same time as the bakers to harvest produce. So far, the streets had been empty save for them two, but now dwarfs and dwarrowdames were making their steady ways towards the market.

Ahead, Ori could see the beginnings of the brightly-tarped stalls on either sides of the street and, as they got closer, he noticed that some of them were much bigger than the stalls near his mother's house.

"First, we'll be going to Master Inkstick-maker U-Sohn's stall. Inksticks, if you didn't know, are actually dried, pressed ink. They're lightweight, and a bit brittle like saltstone. Unlike liquid ink, you need a fine grinding stone and water to use them, and they produce some of the gentlest, most magnificent colours you've ever seen. They're great for creating soft, washed paintings."

At this point, Ori was huffing a bit, and could only manage a controlled "Aah."

Finally they broke into the grand town center, which was an enormous circle connecting to various streets. Helmi turned around to him again, and pointed behind her.

"You see this building here?" she asked, indicating a grand shoppe next to them. It was built with grey brushstones and mortar, and had a very distinct blue door with large glass windows. "This is the apothecary. If you ever get lost here in the market, or if you ever have to find your way back home on your own, walk around the circle until you find this shop. It's the first place Hellä or I wil go looking for you should you go missing, and it's a straight walk from here to the scribehut, ok?"

Ori nodded, and thoughtfully touched Nori's map through pocket. "Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

"Good," she smiled, continuing on into the bustle of traders which, because it was still rather early, was comfortable to navigate. They wound a ways around the big outer circle, and then plunged into its center.

Where Ori had grown up, it had been predominantly Dwarves who traded and shopped, with the occasional Elf band wandering past once or twice in the a year. Here, however, (and Ori assumed it was because they were closer to the River Luhn), there were many different races. The few elves that Ori could see sat straight-backed and lithe, their soft faces glowing in the morning's gentle sun. Though he saw only one or two of them as he and Helmi made their way deeper into the forest of stalls, the ones he did see were stark and beautiful, like a flower growing in a crack between the cobblestones.

Many were there tall, towering Men (compared to the elves' number), with scruffy-looking faces and shoulder-lengthed hair, though more of them shopped than sold. However, when Ori and Helmi stopped, it was in front of a man's stall.

He looked very much like Helmi and Ukko did, with a round face, almond-shaped eyes, and olive-coloured skin, but his arms and legs were much longer, his torso much leaner, and his shiny black hair fell in a straight sheet down his back. His eyes, Ori noticed, were a stark contrast to Helmi's; deep and black and shiny.

Unlike most of the vendors, he sat on a tapestry on the floor, and spread and stacked his wares about him. Although he knew what they were, Ori thought that the inksticks looked like beautifully carved stones embedded with etched gold. Some of them were impossibly even-coloured for stones, pressed into tablets of bright tomato red, shimmering royal blue, vibrant gemstone purple, shining daffodil yellow, and everything in between. Some of the sticks were very little, and could be grasped in his his hand like a pestel, while others were the size of clubs, and smelt like medicinal herbs.

" _ **Lady Helmi**_ ," the man chimed in Westeron, his mouth spreading into a charming, albeit rather crooked-toothed smile. He put a hand on top of his head and bowed to her slightly. " _ **Good morning. And who's this little duckling?**_ "

" _ **Good morning, Master U-Sohn**_ ," replied Helmi with a small bow as well. Procuring a coinpurse from her breast, she emptied it of a few copper coins and offered them to U-Sohn. " _ **He's my new apprentice, Ori. If you'd please, I'd like one of your basic black inksticks, and a fine-grain inkstone.**_ "

" _ **Of course,**_ " he smiled, palming the coins. From a stack on his left, U-Sohn took one rectangular inkstick from a stack (all of which were identical, and about half the width of a brick), and set it upon a a flat grey disk which he'd procured from one of the boxes behind him. He stretched his long upper body over his wares, and handed the stones to Lady Helmi with both hands " _ **And will that be all for you today, Lady Helmi?**_ "

" _ **Until next time, Master U-Sohn**_ ," she said as she placed the stones in the empty bag at her side.

U-Sohn touched his head and inclined slightly towards Ori. " _ **Well met, young master,**_ " he called as they turned to leave.

" _ **At your service, Mister U-Sohn**_ ," replied Ori with a quick bow, and he turned to follow Helmi further into the stalls.

"Now," began Helmi when Ori had reached her side, "we'll be going to buy an ink bottle. The trader also sells quills and pens, and I want you to pay attention to the prices. Try your best to remember them for later, especially the black ink, the goosefeather quill, and the wide reed pens. Okay?"

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

They walked a little way, turning this way and that, twisting around hods and carts, and came to a tent selling stationary. Many a quill and pen laid spread on the table top. Some of the featherquills were from Pheasants, some from Swans, smaller ones from crows, and then of course the Goosefeather. Ori looked for its price, which was written on a slip of paper by its base. 7 copper. He then looked to the reed pens. The larger, sectioned reeds, Ori had never seen before, but they were wide-nibbed, and had the lable 11 copper. As for the smaller, familiar river-reed pens, they were marked 5 copper each. The vendor had inks in many splended colours, in red, purple, blue, orange, and even white, but the black ink is what Ori was looking for, and its pricetag read 3 copper. Ori did his best to comit it to memory, chanting over and over in his mind like this: " _Ink-three, Goosefeather-seven, river-reed-five, sections-eleven. Ink-three, Goosefeather-seven, river-reed-five, sections-eleven._ "

" _ **Hullo, there, Miss Dwarf, Young Dwarfling**_ ," said the man seated behind the tall wooden stall (well, tall to a dwarrow in any case). He was old and brown-eyed, his dark blond tresses streaked with white. " _ **What can I do you for this fine morning? Cards? Envelopes? Perhaps this very pretty sealing wax?**_ "

Helmi shook her head. " _ **I'd just like a bottle of black ink, please.**_ "

" _ **And how about for the littl one?**_ " he inquired politely, handing the bottle to Helmi. Unlike with the Easterling, Helmi did not hand him the money first, but rather took the bottle, and fished out three copper coins. " _ **No, sir, that'll be it for today.**_ "

He nodded. " _ **Thank you very much, my lady. Please come again.**_ "

And they were off, on to the next one. Much to Ori's surprise, they walked in a straight line, on and out of the center of tents, past the little path encircling the market place, and out through one of the streets connected to the turnabout. And they walked down this street for 3 crossroads, turned left, and stepped across the street from the Tanner's.

"This is where my Ukko works," she commented. "And this is where we'll be getting our hide glue. You can buy it from the wood workers guild as well, but because they need it for their trade, they'll often charge you double their supplier's price, so we're cutting out the middledwarf and heading straight for the tanner's. They make it pretty cheap, since the glue stock is made from a by-product for preparing the rawhides for tanning."

As they approached the tanner's lot, Ori noticed that the workyard itself was much much larger than the house. Many a dwarf walked to and from sheds, carrying great barrels of sloshing liquids, carrying poles with dripping hides slung between them, rinsing the hides in great tubs and with leather gloves and poles, as well as scraping long knives over the surfaces of stretched skins. Indeed, most of the work seemed to be going on outside, so that when Helmi swung open the heavy wooden door to the tanhouse, Ori was hardly surprised to see the place stark of dwarves, save a single, stout Khuzdûn stooped over and organizing a stack of leathers.

And there were leathers everywhere-- strung, stacked, folded, hung, and cluttered. Some were in great glossy sheets, as from a cow or a bull, while others were supple and light (deer perhaps?), and others still were in long, thin cuts of brown and red and tan. There were animal pelts with the fur still on them, rolls of leather cord, dyed black leathers, and even leathers that looked white-- all of them adding their fragrance and warmth to the room.

Helmi walked right up to the hunched Khuzdûn and bowed half-way.

"Good morning, Uhlrickûn, " she sang, and he stood to greet her.

Uhlrick's face was ruddy and tanned, his beard braided and rolled into large aglets, with a bit of a goatee hanging free down the middle. Meanwhile, the hair on his head was pulled tightly backward, and braided into two magnificent spirals on either side of his face. Those spirals, coupled with his greying tawny locks and broad, triangular nose, destinctly reminded Ori of a very hardy Ram.

"Ahhh, Helmihn," he bleated, brushing off his knees and taking a short bow as well. Uhlrick waggled his finger and walked briskly behind the counter (and when he hunched over in his grey jerkin, he looked likea ram about to charge..) "I have some hide glue for you. Our Ukkoûn asked me to set it aside a bit earlier."

As he straightened, procuring an enormous jar of what looked to Ori like transluscent brown pebbles, Uhlrick' eyes fell upon Ori.

"And just who is this?" he asked congenially.

"Haha! He's my new apprentice," responded Helmi, putting her arm around Ori and pulling him closer to the bench.

"Master Oriyith!" Uhlrick remarked, and he took a bow. "Good morning! Uhlrick Orikkul, at your service!"

"O-ori Jyriul," replied Ori, bowing deeply in return. "At yours and your family's!"

"Well met, Oriyith," he laughed, resting his forearm on the lid of the jar.

"Ahhhh very good, very good," cooed Helmi, and she produced her coinpurse. "Very good I thank you, Uhlrickûn. And what'll I be owing you for this bit?"

"Hmmm..," Uhlrick hummed, stroking his billy-goat chin. "How would 4 copper set you back?"

"Not at all, not at all, haha" laughed Helmi, taking out the four coins and placing them in his hand. After he'd put them in a box underneath the bench, and written a small note on a pad, she gently placed the jar back into her bag, arranging everything on the bench and taking care of the glass bottle and inkstick. Then she nodded, slung the bag over her shoulder, and turned to go. "Thank you very much, Uhlrickûn. We'll be seeing you."

"Aye," he called after her. "Take care then, Helmihn. And you as well, Oriyith!"

Ori spun around, nodded his head, shouted a quick "Well met, Tanner Uhlrick," and turned back around to face Helmi on the threshold. The heavy door swung shut behind him.

Onwards they walked, out and towards the street, when Helmi stopped. She turned towards the tanning yards, looking this way and that, scanning the face of every dwarf. When she couldn't find the one she was looking for, though, she started across the street again with a small sigh.

Across from the tanner's were not more shops, but rows of residential houses. Each house was stoutly build with stones or bricks in warm hues ranging from creme to burnt red. Some of them had windows, others had flowers or herbs, and each one was affixed with a painted wooden door.

"This is where the fur traders live. I pay their dwarrows to collect green walnuts for me," Helmi started, marching up to a little house build with rosey red bricks. "Their families spend weeks at a time hunting in the wilderlands outside the city. They hunt and snare as much as they can, and bring back skins for the tanners and meat for the butchers, and their children bring the walnuts back for me. It's a lot cheaper to pay them than to pay the stall price for 'em."

"Ahh," Ori cooed. "So, you're rather partial to walnuts, then, Helmi Guchirinh?"

"Haha! No more than the next dwarrowdame," said Helmi, and she knocked hard on the pretty brown door. "Nah, we're going to use em to make ink."

" _Ink!_ " Ori exclaimed. "I had no idea you could make _ink_  from them!"

"Oh yes. Yes indeed," Helmi replied. "Iron Gall Ink. It can be made with walnuts or acorns, and when we get back today, you, Helläith, and I are gonna make it."

The door in front of them swung open, revealing a tiny dwarrow in a tunic and cap. He stood before them on the threshold, one hand still on the knob, while his brother shouted at him from inside the house.

"Oi! Amitith! Don't just swing open the door like that! You gotta check who it is first!" The second dwarrow (who looked to be about 24) thudded down the hall behind Amit, opening the door all the way to meet them. "Oh! Lady Helmi, it's you!"

"Hullo, Tomitith," she chimed. "How's your dear Amad?"

"She's good," Tomit began, and he turned to run back inside the house, leaving Amit standing still in the doorway. "Just a moment, Lady Helmi, I gotcher walnuts saved up! I found a lot!"

"Hi," said Amit with a shy smile. The babydorf was staring up at Ori with big brown eyes. Ori responded with a smile, and an equally small "Hi."

"I'm Amit. I'm 15 years old."

Ori's smile widened, and he gave a little nod.

"Hello, Amitith. I'm Ori, and I'm 36."

From inside the house came a faint "Lady Helmi's here," and a rustling, and Tomit returned. He drug behind him a lumpy burlap sack, which was the same size as Amit, and his mother (who wore an apron and held a knife in one hand) waved from inside the house, calling out "Good morning!"

"Well done, Tomitith, well done! Ahh but that's a lot, haha!" Helmi laughed, and she put 5 coppers in his outstretched hand. She took the bag off here shoulder and handed it to Ori. "Take this one for me, will you, Oriyith? I'll get the heavier one."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

Helmi hoisted the sack over her shoulder. "Tell your parents hello for me, ay? She looks pretty busy."

"Yeah. She and 'Adaa are salting meat," he said, pocketing the coins save for two, which he gave to Amit. "I'll tell em you said hi tho."

"Thank you very much," said Helmi, and she and Ori turned to go.

Back out and onto the streets again, they walked in a different direction from whence they came, west for two blocks over, then turning left onto a larger street. Ori tried to remember his little rhyme.

_Ink- three.. goose.. goose feather..-even.. something something something seven.. uh.._

_Ink-three.. goosefeather-eleven? reeds?_

_Yeah, river reeds and big reeds. And the big reeds were really expensive._

_Ink-three, Goosefeather-seven, river-reed-five, sections-eleven._

_Ink-three, Goosefeather-seven, river-reed-five, sections-eleven._

Like this he chanted in his mind as they trekked on for two crossroads, then turned right and headed towards the smithy. Like many of the trade buildings in the northern part of the city, it was big-- about twice the size of the smithy near the Tea Shop-- and the doors were propped open. Loud metal tinkings could be heard from the streets outside, and louder still were the Master Smith's instructions. Such things as "Aye! Don't use your back, use your legs if you don't wanna be laid out by the end of the week!" "The bellows! Pump the bellows a bit more, that's a good lad!" and "Put your arms into it, your arms! Not your back. The strength has to come from your arms!" and so on.

Helmi entered first, followed by Ori. It was creeping towards half-nine, and he was starting to get rather tired. On top of not having slept much last night and having had to wake up early, he'd been walking a lot more than he was used to back at the tea shop. He felt winded, and a little greasy, and the warmth of the forge hit him like a brick, making his head sink into a sleepy stupor.

Inside the smithy was warm and smelled of coal smoke and burnt honey. There were five dwarves there, as well as two dwarrowdames, and two dwarrows, and every one was outfitted in thick leather aprons, steel-toed boots, and long brown work gloves. They all of them worked away without paying Helmi or Ori any heed, some manning the bellows to heat up the coal, others pouring molden metal into molds, and others still pounding hard at metal on an anvil. The two younger dwarves were doing this, one holding a glowing piece of metal with great prongs whilst the other pounded it into shape with a mallet. A dwarrowdame stood betwixt them, shouting instructions, which they followed with a "Yes, Halewid Guchirinh."

Ori watched them a moment, somewhat transfixed. Although in their faces they looked to be about the same age as him, their arms and chests were much more defined and barrelled due to the hard work of apprenticing to a blacksmith. Their golden and brown hairs were tightly plaited against their scalps, and unceremoniously pulled back into ponytails high on backs of their heads.

The dwarrowdame behind them seemed to notice Helmi and Ori, waving her hand at them and shouting "I'll be right there!"

"Good Morning, Halewidihn!" Helmi called, and she set down the sack of walnuts. "Please, take your time! We really aren't in any sort of rush!"

"That's Master Blacksmith Halewid; this is her smithy" began Helmi, turning to Ori and indicating the dwarrowdame. "And those two young dwarves she's working with? Those are Fili and Kili. They're sons of our esteemed Lady Dis, whose brother is Thorin, rightful King under the Mountain. I had heard he works in the same guild that Halewid belongs to, and that he travels far and wide to smithe and earn money for the Dwarves of Erebor."

"Ahh," Ori cooed politely. But he was tired, and the sweet smell of beeswax smoke was making him sleepier. "They look so young. Are they my age?"

Helmi nodded. "Maybe a bit older than you, though. I think they've been here maybe 5 years now."

Halewid bade some final instructions to the boys, and thumped over in Helmi's and Ori's direction. Like the rest of her smiths, she was sturdily built in her upper body and legs, and clad in a thick brown apron. Her pink face and hands were sweaty and a little smeared with black, and stray strands of her whispy brown sideburns clung to her face and neck. She smiled widely and, dragging her arm over her brow, boomed: "Helminh! Good morning! Good to see you, good to see you, I've got your soot all ready from this past week."

"Oh, Halewidihn, you are so good to me," Helmi chimed, handing her a few coins and replacing her purse again. "And I don't suppose you've got any rusted scraps for me as well, have you?"

"I sure do, haha!" Halewid laughed as she walked over to a workbench. "I save them for you when they can't be saved for me. Just gimme a moment, ay?"

Ori looked again at the young dwarves at the anvil again who, much to his surprise, were looking at himself and Helmi as well. When they made eye-contact, Ori shuddered. He gave a little incline of his head, but rather than nod as well, the boys laughed and waved at him cheerfully. Too soon, their faces went grave, and they quickly turned back to their work as Halewid returned to stand in front of Helmi.

"Your soot, my dear," said Halewid, who offered Helmi a great bit of folded paper.

"Oriyith, if you could, please," Helmi suggested, forcing Ori to look away from the princes at last, and tuck the paper away into the bag he was carrying.

"Aahh," grinned Halewid, giving Ori a proper look over and handing him a small drawstring pouch as well. "New apprentice, ay, Helminh? Whatta little cutie!"

"Ah, yes! I-I-I-I'm Ori Jyriyul," Ori stuttered, and he reached out for the pouch in the middle of a bow. "At your service, Blacksmith Halewid."

"Myyyy, hahaha!" Barked Halewid in a wild laugh, both of her fists resting on her hips. "How absolutely precious, like a little birdy, haha! Oriyith Jyriyul, I'm Halewid Smith Hedwigul, at your service." And with this, she took a shallow, swooping bow, and her ponytail flipped over her head in the swing of it.

"You be careful with those rusty nails, you hear?" she said, placing the pouch in his outstretched hands. "Scratch yourself on one a them and your jaw'll lock right up. Takes months to recover, if you don't starve to death or die first, which most do, haha!"

Ori gulped and very tenderly placed the pouch in the bag along with the inkstone, hide glue, and bottle.

"Oh, you'll be fine, Oriyith," chuckled Helmi, who now hoisted up her walnut bag again. "It's not as though we'll be building with them. _Iron_  Gall Ink. _Iron_. They'll be going straight into the pot with the walnuts."

"A-ah..," Ori nodded, his shoulders relaxing somewhat. He took a last look at Fili and Kili, who were looking back again. He wanted to wave, but thought better of it, and nodded slightly instead.

"Thank you, again, Halewidihn," Helmi chimed, after which Halewid called "Anytime!"

And the two of them set off again. Behind them, Halewid's voice boomed in the forge once more, this time chastizing someone for their iron getting too cool to be shaped properly.

Out they walked again, reuniting with the larger, main street, and turned right. Much to Ori's surprise, they seemed to be heading back towards the Marketplace. As they made their steady pace, the colourful tents and wooden beams of the stalls came into view, but this time, the market was swarmed with people. Humans, Dwarves, and the occasional Elf went this way and that in the bustle, buying, trading, and selling. The new scent of street food was hanging in the air now, and it made Ori's mouth water, for although he'd eaten two breakfasts this morning, he had also walked quite a lot, and had burnt off the energy it had given him. In fact, he supposed he'd walked as much in this one morning as he usually had in a week back at home!

"Okay, Oriyith," began Helmi. "Show me where you're supposed to go if you ever get lost."

"Ah-- yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

Ori looked left and right, but he couldn't see the blue door. Maybe it was across the sea of tents and stalls, or maybe it was just around the bend, but he didn't know.

 _I guess.. I'll just walk along the edge of the circle until I find it._  He finally decided.  _But left or right? I guess it doesn't really matter..._

He started right, and Helmi followed after him.

They had been walking for about 10 minutes with no sign of the blue door. As it slowly approached 10 o'clock, the sun crawled its way across the eastern sky. It was early spring, and thus not too hot, but Ori's face burn shyly.  _What if he was going the wrong way? What if Helmi Guchirînh thought he was dumb?_  He was very much awake now, his shyness slowly fading to panic, and then he saw it; The Apothecary's shop, with it's grey brushstones, it's big windows, and it's beautiful, cobalt-coloured door.

"H-here, Helmi Guchirinh. This is where I'm supposed to go if I ever get lost."

"Very good, Oriyith, very good," she smiled. "And do you remember why I suggested this place to you for a meeting point?"

"Because the door is blue?" Ori offered.

"Haha! Because the door is blue, yes. But more importantly, this is the road which, if you follow it straight on, takes us back home. So no matter what, Hellä and I will have to come on this road at some point."

"Ohhhh, yeah!" Ori exclaimed. "We just have to walk this way until we're back to the circle, right?"

"Correct," replied Helmi. "Welp, we've got all the supplies, and now we've just got to make the ink. So, let's get going then, shall we?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language Notes:  
> Guchirinh -- Master (of a trade (feminine))  
> Guchirûn -- Master (of a trade (male))
> 
> -ihn ending -- literally a dwarvish feminine ending. I'm using it to indicate some female dwarf within your peer group who is older than you.  
> -ûn --literally a dwarvish masculine ending. I'm using it to indicate some male dwarf within your peer group who is older than you.  
> -ith -- literally a dwarvish "who is young" ending. I'm using it to indicate some dwarf who is younger than you.
> 
> Currency:  
> There's no real currency mentioned in The Hobbit/Lotr, save for very few instances. I just keep in mind that it takes 5 or so silver to buy a horse.  
> 100 copper = 1 silver  
> 10 copper = 1 nickel  
> 10 silver = 1 gold
> 
> Currency exchange culture:  
> Dwarves and Easterlings always give payment before service and keep meticulous records of payment.  
> Humans esp Westroni give service before payment and keep meticulous records of stock.  
> Elves give 1/2 first, 1/2 upon completion and keep loose records of both.
> 
> Culture Notes:  
> Peer group titles:  
> Because Dwarves have a culture that is heavily invested in craft, and crafts always have apprentice, journeyman, and mastery levels, I've decided to have Khuzdul directly express those differences in status. 
> 
> Therefor, two people on Master levels address eachother by the general "ihn/un"  
> Someone distinguishably younger than you always gets "ith" unless they achieve mastery status  
> Someone older than you always gets 'lord/lady'  
> Someone older than you who is in a trade always gets either their title (Tanner, Scribe, Blacksmith, etc), Lord/Lady, or Guchir  
> Parents/Siblings will address eachother informally, with their names, with titles like Amad/'Adad, or with the -ith ending depending on the household. While -ith is common, it's extremely uncommon to address your brothers or sisters with ihn/un
> 
> Westron:  
> Comparatively, Dunedain/Human/Hobbit/etc.. culture is not so invested in crafts, and only really uses titles when it comes to married peoples, esteemed peoples, or kings/lords/etc... so when a Dwarf speaks in Westron, he or she will use the appropriate titles for that language. i.e. (Helmi to U-Sohn): He's my new apprentice, Ori. (rather than Oriyith)
> 
>  
> 
> Easterlings:  
> There's not too terribly much in the way of information on Easterlings, but they're obviously based on some kind of generic Asian/Mediterranian/Middle-Eastern, so I've taken a few liberties. I'm not appropriating any one culture, rather I'm trying to create a new culture. There'll be some real-world influences, but not from one specific ethnic group.
> 
> Touching the top of the head: In Easterling traditions, you never touch the top of someone's head without permission, even a healer will ask permission first. This is because, to put it simply, the top of the body is considered by them to be more important that the bottom, and the head is thus the most sacred part of the body. 
> 
> And thus, touching (or rather, covering) the top of the head when bowing is a way to 'protect' that part, while still showing the submission associated with bowing.


	5. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plumbing and ink-making are discussed

And again, they were walking, walking, walking. Most everyone in that part of town had woken up by now, the clatter from their daily chores echoing off the soft stone walls. Some people tended plants, some beat rugs and aired bedclothes, while others swept and brushed the stoops and wiped the house windows, and as they came upon their little circlet, the Book came into view. The businesses around it were open now, with stalls in front of houses and the odd cart or two. Ori noted a grocer's, a wash house, and a candlestick maker.

When they entered the Book, Hellä was seated behind the receiving desk, and what Ori assumed to be apprentice Onni's slim book was folded open in front of her. She looked up when she heard the door chime's clinking.

"Welcome back," she smiled. "Are we gonna start right away?"

Ori smiled, and followed Helmi and Hellä into the dining room. Helmi slid the walnut bag onto the floor, then sunk into one of the chairs.

"Maybe boil some water for tea, first. We went all over town today, haha," Helmi sighed. "Use some of the tea Lady Lumi gave us this morning. The smell's been stuck in my nose for the past two hours."

Ori stood by the table, not quite sure what to do with himself. _Would it be impolite to sit? Should he help Hellä with the tea? Should he set his bag down too?_

"Come, come, have a seat, Oriyith, and place the bag on the table, please."

"Y-yes, Helmi Guchirînh," and he took a seat next to her.

Helmi opened the bag, and spread its contents out on the table. One basic black inkstick. One fine-grain grinding stone. One bottle of black ink. One jar of hide glue. A folded paper, tied with string and packed with soot, and one drawstring pouch of rusty scrap metal.

"This is an inkstick," she started out, handing it to Ori. Although it looked heavy and black like coal embedded with gold, it was surprisingly lightweight. It weighed about the same as a biscuit of the same size, and was slightly porous and comfortable in his hand.

"And this is an inkstone," continued Helmi, placing the discus stone in front of him. It had a shallow, cylindrical impression in the middle, which dipped down by about 40 degrees on one side. "To use that inkstick, you first have to wet your inkstone. You put a few drops of water in the center here, then you put your inkstick in the water, and grind it around in a circle. Because the inkstone is dried, you are essentially making the ink this way, and there's a little reservoir here, in case you're working on a large project, like a painting or something. You saw U-Sohn Guchirûn's wares, right? He had a lot of different colours and some big ones and some small ones?"

Ori nodded. He could still see the jeweled tones clearly in his mind.

"That's what I was talking about when I said they produce some of the most magnificent colours. Whatsmore, some of the more expensive ones are infused with herbs and essential oils, and so they even smell nice.

"In the south east, making inksticks is its own trade that takes almost two decades to master. Some of the inksticks made, like the giant, carved ones U-Sohn Guchirûn had? Some of them are so beautiful and so valuable that they have to be bought with gold, and their owners don't even use them. They keep them as a treasure, and pass them down to their children."

"Ooh," Ori cooed. He could definitely believe that.

"Yes," Helmi continued. "Anyway, each inkstick should have its own inkstone. This stone and this stick are fine for starting out, but as you get better quality and different coloured sticks, you'll also have to get them each their own inkstone.

"Inkstones are made, basically, by mixing together two main ingredients: soot, (and here she points to the paper) and animal glue (and here she points to the jar). Like with bread, there are a lot of flavours of inkstick. Some people add ash, others add in things like incense or pearl dust or deer musk. And, like with making bread, the soot-to-glue ratio can't be too high or too low, and they must be combined thoroughly, or the stick can end up crackling when it dries."

"Ahh," started Ori. "It sounds tricky."

"Compared to making Iron Gall ink, it's exceptionally tricky," Helmi chuckled. "When it comes to making ink like this bottle here, you need a lot more ingredients, but it's a lot less work. You just sort of stick them all in a pot and leave them to their own devices for a week."

"And how long does it take to make the inksticks?" Ori inquired. It was all very interesting, and he was enjoying the lesson, but now that they weren't walking anymore, his eyelids were getting heavy again.

"Just making the dough for an inkstick, mixing and kneading the ingredients together, takes around 2 hours for a novice," explained Helmi, "But it takes about a month for them to dry properly."

"A _month_!" Ori gasped.

"Yes, a month, haha. But they can be stored indefinitely, and there's very little chance of them ever wasting away or getting sticky, like when you accidentally let air into an ink bottle. And, because you need to grind them to make the ink, they can even survive floods and such. They're tough, and well-worth the price if you can afford them. Their only real drawback when it comes to stick ink is that you have to use a brush. The only way to load the ink into a quill or reed pen is to soak up some of the ink in a fine-haired brush, first, then scrape the ink into the nib."

"Hmm... And how about the Iron Gall ink?"

"With Iron Gall ink," Helmi began, "well, have you ever had a rusty pan or pot? And you tried to wash off the rust, but it leaves the water all black?"

"Ah! Yes! You're right, it left my hands a little dirty as well."

"Well, when you make Iron Gall Ink, you boil walnuts, or acorns, or oak galls, or any kind of gall really, and you bring it to a boil, then simmer it for three days. You add a little water when the water level recedes to half, and you just keep heating it. Then you strain it, and you boil it and simmer it again, this time allowing it to reduce to half. You add a little vinegar, a little acacia gum, and a little green oil of vitriol, and you can bottle it."

"Ahhhhh," Ori said with a nod. "So that's why you wanted all those walnuts. Because you want to make a lot at one time?"

"Precisely, haha!" Hellä came in then with the tray of tea. It smelled like ginger and cardamom-- an energy-boosting tea, most likely. "And have you ever smelled a walnut gall, Oriyith? They smell horrible, and we'll have to boil them for a week, so it's done up on the rooftop. But don't worry, the rooftop is covered in a thin layer of mortar, and it's got a brick hearth built up there, so it won't burn the house down."

"Oh," said Ori, who hadn't even _thought_ about the house burning down until that point.

"And that's also why we've got to wear special clothes for inking," Hellä continued as she poured them each a cup of tea. "Because, after it boils a while you know, you've gotta strain it, and some of it almost always sprays your clothes when it's getting poured. You could beat it with a rock for a fortnight, and the stains still wouldn't come out."

Ori chuckled and spluttered his tea.

"So, Oriyith," started Hellä. "Who all did you get to meet today?"

Ori thought back. Over the course of the two or so hours in the morning, he'd met so many new people that he couldn't quite remember all their names.

"Well," he began, trying to think back to the beginning of his morning. "I met Inkstick Master U-Sohn.."

"Oh!" Hellä chimed. "I love Master U-Sohn, aah. Doesn't he have such an interesting face?"

"He's much too old for you," interrupted Helmi.

"Ammaaaaa, I'm three years older than him! Honestly!" Hellä huffed. "And I didn't mean it that way, anyway! I just meant he's the only Easternling in the North of Ered Luin.."

Helmi just laughed, and so did Ori, albeit a little half-heartedly. He really did think Master U-Sohn had an interesting appearance, with appley cheeks and slender arms and bright black eyes, but for some reason it felt a little sour to admit it to himself.

"Anyway, Oriyith," Hellä restarted. "Who else did you see today?"

"Hmm.. We saw.. uh.. the one.. The Tanner. Who looks like a Ram."

Hellä burst into giggles. "Ahhhhhhh he does! He does, doesn't he? See, that's what 'Abad n I said, too haha!"

"His name was Uhlrick," said Helmi, taking a sip of her tea. "Tanner Uhlrick. And then we went to the fur traders' house, and to the smithy."

"Ooh, the smithy?" Hellä cooed, turning to Ori. "Did you see the Princes, then?"

"Princes?" exclaimed Ori. "But I thought Fili and Kili were just the King's Nephews?"

"Aye, his Nephews," Hellä began with a grin. "But the King ain't got any heirs, and if he were to pass away-- Mahal forbid it-- without producing one, his only living sibling-- our esteemed Lady Dis-- would become queen regnant, and her sons would be the next heirs in line for the throne.

"Well," she trailed off.. "I say throne, but there's not really a throne left to be had, huh..."

They all of them drank their tea in quietude. On the library table, the room's only clock could be heard tick tick ticking away. It was creeping now towards eleven; they'd been sitting and chatting for half an hour already.

"Well," Helmi finally said, breaking the silence. "The ink isn't going to make itself, is it? Helläith, if you'll go with Oriyith to take some water, I'll wash up the tea set, and we can get started."

"Okay," nodded Hellä as she pushed her chair away from the table. "Come on, Oriyith."

She walked around and into the kitchen, picking up some buckets that were sat in a corner, and continued on and out the back door.

"Uhm..," Ori began, following her obediently. "I thought we were gonna make the ink on the rooftop?"

"Yes," she said, handing a bucket to him. "But we've gotta go get some water for it first."

"Water? You mean, you don't have water in your house?"

"Well, we do," replied Hellä. "But, not everyone has water run to their house. In a big city like this one, it's too troublesome to build quills to everyone's house who doesn't need it. So, if you've gotta business that needs water like your mum's tea shop, and you can afford it, you might be able to get one, but a scribe doesn't really need it, you know? And the cistern is just down the block, so it's not that big of a deal to go and get it."

"What's a cistern?" asked Ori who, having only ever lived in the shop, was not aware that every dwelling did not have its own water pipes.

"A cistern," Hellä began, "is like a giant box underground. It's waterproof, and it collects rainwater, although I think a some of them are connected to the river Luhn or some mountain springs, too. Basically, it's a big container that collects and holds water, and everyone in town goes to the cistern pumps to get their water for the day.

"Although, I've heard that the farming houses and rural houses farther away from the city have got their own littler cisterns built for their own house, since it's way too troublesome to have to cart into the city every morning just for a few buckets of water. "

"Aah, I see," Ori nodded. "So, places like the wash houses, and the tea shops, and the public bath house, they all have pipes connected to them, but normal houses don't."

"No," continued Hellä. "Some houses get quills built, if they have enough money, but most people don't wanna spend money on that kinda thing. And the bath house is connected to a hot spring, so it doesn't need it, too."

"Ooh."

They turned the corner and came upon a very unassuming building. It was constructed entirely of grey stones and stood only one-story tall with a domed roof.

"This is it?" asked Ori. "I thought it was gonna be a lot bigger."

"Well," Hellä started as they made their way to the cistern's entrance. "It's built underground, you know. Down and into the mountain. It'd take up too much space if it was built up, and I guess if it's underground, the water can stay cool, so it wouldn't get evaporated."

"Hmm..."

Inside the cistern building, which was in fact one large round room, statues of dwarves and dwarrowdames lined the walls. Every few feet stood one of the stone denizens, each holding a long-necked chalice in their extended hand. In the center of the room, a stone banister etched with interwoven geometric patterns encircled a great gaping orifice, into which a heavy stone staircase descended.

Ori peered over the ledge. From what he could see, a cavernous room lay underfoot, supported by looming, tree-like pillars.

"Is that where we take the water? Down there?" he asked.

"Nahh, we'll take water from this level," answered Hellä. "Down there.. Well, it leads to the cistern, I guess, I don't really know. It's just a big room with carvings on the walls and stuff. It's nice to spend some time down there during the hot summer. I guess someone's gotta maintain the cistern, but I've never seen any doors in there, although maybe they're hidden."

"Hmm..," Ori cooed, and squinted at the dark room.

"Anyways," said Hellä, pulling away from the railing and walking over to one of the statues. She set her bucket down at the dwarrowdame's stone feet. "Let's get back soon, Oriyith. We can come check out this place again tomorrow morning before breakfast, since we'll have to come back and get the water, anyway."

Ori turned around just in time to see Hellä grasp the cup of the chalice and give it a twist. As she twisted it around, it rose up like the head of a screw, and water flowed down and out of the glass's base and into the bucket with a very satisfying glug.

"Aah, how interesting," Ori chirped, . "The taps here are so grand."

"It's the dwarven way, after all!" laughed Hellä. "I guess most of the public buildings like this one are a little extra-grand, though."

Ori smiled and nodded, affixing his bucket at the feet of a very jolly-looking stone dwarf. He turned the cup, and the water rushed out in a clear jet. Once both of their buckets were sufficiently filled, they closed off the water again, and wandered back to the scribehut.

They walked in through the back door, returning once more to the kitchen.

"You can just set yours there, Oriyith," she said, indicating the space next to the hearth. "We only need one for ink, the other one is just for the house."

He nodded and set it down, then offered "Would you like me to carry that one up the stairs for you, Lady Hel-- uh.. Helläihn?"

"Oh my, how polite!" She laughed merrily, turning and making her way towards the dining room door. "Thank you, Oriyith. It's alright, though, I can carry it just fine."

They crossed the dining room diagonally and entered the stairwell. Hellä went first, lugging her bucket up the stairs to the second floor, which consisted of little more than a hallway and doors on either side of it.

"Oh yeah," said Hellä. "You haven't really gotten a tour of the house yet. Well, here on the left, this first door, that's my room. And on the right, right across from me, is Veikko's room. But since he lives with Master Topi, it's your room now. And there's the lavatory, on the farthest the left."

"Ah, Okay," Ori nodded, peering down the hall for just a second before they started up the second set of stairs, and stopped again at a second landing.

"There's Amad and 'Abad's room, on the left, and a storage room on the right. It's mostly where Amaa keeps records and extra supplies, and winter clothing and stuff. I think there's a spare desk in there that you can use. We'll do most of our scribe work either downstairs in the dining rooms, or at our desks in our rooms. It depends."

And they ascended again, up into a very little space which was composed mostly of a shelf and the latch that opened up unto the roof. Thankfully, the door had already been opened, and they climbed the stairs easily, which went all the way to the top.

A whiles away, in the center of the roof, sat Helmi. She was striking up a fire in a little brick hearth which, unlike the one in the kitchen, sat above ground level. Although there was a waist-high wall surrounding the perimeter of the roof, the hearth also had a little barrier around it. Peeking over this little wall, and to Helmi's right side, were the sack of walnuts and a giant pot with lid.

"Ahh, back now? Alright then," said Helmi, who was clacking away at her flint lighter. Ori and Hellä trotted over, setting down the bucket of water next to the sack of walnuts and gathering around the little enclosure.

"Uhm.. Helmi Guchirînh?" began Ori. "If we're all on top of the roof, who's gonna watch the storefront?"

"Not to worry, Oriyith," she chirped, and the fire sizzled to life. "See that little bell on the hatch there?"

Ori turned to look. In fact, he hadn't noticed it at all when they were climbing out of the stairwell; he'd been too preoccupied with not falling down the many stairs while he looked at the rest of the house.

"It's connected to a string, which runs down the wall between the stairwell and connects to the front door. If anyone comes in, the string will taughten, and we'll hear it."

"Aah," Ori nodded.

"But anyway, we won't be up here too long. I've already built the fire, and we've just got to load up the pot and boil the water, which takes the longest time.

"Now, as you can see, we've got a little hearth up here, which I had built specifically for making ink."

Upon a closer look, Ori could see that, rather than a traditional hearth, it was like a stove of sorts. Made of brick and mortar, it was stacked waist-high upon a brick floor. The front wall had a square hole in it, wherein the firewood could be inserted and presently burned merrily, and there was no top-- rather, the construction stopped and there was a great square hole, revealing the fire therein, and affixed to the back was a secondary construction with a slim opening which served as a small chimney.

"First," Helmi explained, dragging the enormous cast-iron pot closer to her. "First, we're gonna load up the pot. Now, we need to have an equal amount of gall to water, so I'd say fill it up a little less than half-way with galls. If you could, please."

"I hate this part," said Hellä as she and Ori reached into the sack and grabbed a few hands full, tossing them into the pot. "They smell so bad, and they're gonna make our hands smell bad, too.."

"That's good," Helmi chimed, and she retrieved the pouch that Halewid had given them. "Then we add in the iron scraps. Honestly, you could add them in at this point, or you could wait until the second watering, but I do it now."

She opened up the pouch and turned it over into the pot. Rusted nails and unrecognizable bits of scrap iron tumbled in over the galls.

"Now, while it's not too heavy, we'll lift it onto the stove. If you add the water first, the weight of it and the cast iron are impossible to get off the ground, haha."

"But.. Helmi Guchirînh, won't the pot fall into the fire?" asked Ori looking between the pot and the hole in the hearth.

"Aye, good eye, Oriyith," said Helmi. She indicated a sheet of metal that lay propped against one of the brick walls. "That's what this is for. The hole in the center is small enough that the rim of the pot cannot fit through it, so it'll be held close to the fire, but won't sit directly on it."

She slid the metal sheet on top of the fire, its dimensions matching exactly with the top of the stove. The flames licked the edges of the open circle, but were forced back inside when she placed the pot on top. It slid down, saving about 5 inches from the top, its handles resting on the sheet.

"And now we add the water," she said, and Hellä tipped the bucket and poured it in until it was at about the same level as the sheet metal. "And after it reaches a boil, we'll clamp the lid on, and just leave it until the wood burns down. Every five hours or so, we'll check the wood and add more if need be. It just needs to stew like that for about three days until we strain it, then we'll boil it again."

"Hellä can show you how to clamp on the lid," said Helmi, who pocketed her tinder box and flint lighter, picked up the nearly-empty water bucket, grasped the burlap sack in her free hand. "I'm going to go start in on cooking lunch, then we'll see about getting you some inking clothes. "

And with that she made her way across the rooftop, and disappeared beneath the hatch, closing it behind her.

Ori and Hellä sat quietly within the little brick enclosure, listening to the charming crackle of the fire. As they sat, Ori's eyelids grew heavy again. His breathing slowed down and his head bobbed, and he would've fallen asleep right there if Hellä's voice hadn't broken through the quiet.

"Sleepy already?" she chirped. "It's not even mid-day yet, we've still got a while to go until bed time."

"I-I'm sorry!" squeaked Ori. "I mean, it's very interesting, making the ink! It's just that I didn't really sleep well last night, I was too.. excited, I guess. And then we had to get up early and walk over.. sorry."

He sat straight up and concentrated on the pot.

"Ahhh, I understand," Hellä replied. "I guess, just try to keep your brain stimulated, and it might help you stay awake. Or we could get up and stretch!"

She stood and reached high into the air. Ori stood, too, twisting his back and leaning forwards to touch his toes. They bent and twisted and turned like this for a few minutes. While they did so, Ori thought about all he'd seen today, replaying the scenes backwards in his head, until he reached his mother turning the corner. Suddenly, he was very awake, and a sharp sting struck his throat. He sat back down, and looked into the little hole in the front of the stove.

"Ahh, It's starting to boil," said Hellä, peering over the edge of the pot. "Good enough, I think. We can put the lid on now."

"When you put the lid on, you have to start with the side that's nearest to you, like this," Taking the heavy cast iron lid, Hellä first connected it on the edge of the rim nearest her body, pressing it closed away from her, and clamping it shut on both ends. "This is because, when you go to remove the lid in a few days, you need to open it starting with the end that's away from you, so that the steam doesn't burn your face. Because the lid clamps on, very little steam can escape, so the water will stay hotter for longer. Even if the fire completely burns out, like at night when we're sleeping, the water will still be pretty hot in the morning."

"Ahh, yes," replied Ori. "Just like when you're cooking food on the stove, you're supposed to open the lid away from you."

"Exactly," Hellä smiled. "Don't forget about the clamps."

They made their way down the stairs, closing the hatch behind them, and onto the first floor again. As they turned into the dining room, however, a strange dwarf was sat at the table. He had orange-red hair, which was cut short and swept towards the back of his head like a patch of fire, as well as a full, albeit relatively short beard.

"Hullo, Helläith," he nodded congenially. "And you must be Oriyith! Hullo, hullo."

He pushed his chair back, standing up between it and the table and taking a bow. "I'm Aodhagán Áedánul, at your service!"

"Ahh, Ori Jyriyul, at your service," responded Ori, who stopped to take a bow.

"Aodhagánûn is a journeyman. He works here in the afternoons," explained Hellä as she passed the table and went towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna set the table, but you can stay and talk to Aodhagánûn if you like."

"O-okay," Ori replied, and he seated himself across from the fiery dwarf.

"So where're you from, Oriyith?" asked Aodhagán.

"I'm from South-east district," replied Ori. "And yourself?"

"Ahh, I'm from waaaay over in East district, almost out of the city, but my family lives just a whiles east from here now. We moved here a few years ago, near a hot spring, so my Maa can rest her old bones in the public bath house without having to go too far, haha."

"Ohh, that's lovely," Ori replied. "Is your mother quite well?"

"Very well, I thank you," Aodhagán chuckled. "So how are you liking your first day as an apprentice so far?"

Ori nodded. "It's very interesting. Helmi Guchirînh and Lady Hel-- Helläihn are very knowledgeable."

"Yeah, so true," Aodhagán nodded. "Helmi Guchirînh is considered one of the best scribes in the city, you know? Because of her unique blend of traditional pen and brush calligraphies, and her advanced abilities not only in writing, but also in painting. I'm really lucky to work for her, I bet she's an amazing Master."

"So far, she's been exceptionally kind to me," Ori agreed. "And everything she says is always so interesting. I feel like I've learned a lot already."

"Looks like a soup and sop day," chimed Hellä as she returned with a tray, which was laden with bowls, spoons, a loaf of bread, a breadboard, and little plates.

"Yes!" Aodhagán hissed. "I hope it's lentil soup. Helmi Guchirînh makes it the best!"

"I think it's tomato-creme," replied Hellä, and she sat down next to Ori. She set the breadboard on the table in front of herself, and indicated the dishes at her side. "Pass those out for me, Oriyith?"

"Y-yes!" he said, nearly jumping out of his chair to take the dishes.

"Amaa says that you'll be learning Khuzdul calligraphy after lunch," started Hellä as she sliced up the loaf and passed it around on the small plates. "Then we'll make inksticks, then head over to the baths. So, we'll get back kinda early, and you can get to sleep after dinner."

"O-oh!" Ori exclaimed. "Really! Everyone needn't alter your schedules for me! I'll be fine, I can certainly manage."

"It's quite alright, Oriyith," said Helmi, and she entered the dining room, carrying with her a pot of steaming soup. "You've had a rather exciting day so far, moving here so early this morning and then taking right to the marketplace and all. We don't want you to overexert yourself and get sick on your first day."

"Yeah," Hellä agreed. "There's plenty of time to learn over the next 15 years, you don't have to tackle everything in one day at the expense of yourself."

"Plus," proceeded Aodhagán, "If you try to work when you're exhausted, the quality will suffer a lot."

"Absolutely right. And, while it's not to say it's alright to turn to sloth," Helmi continued, and she ladled hot spoonsful of the tomato-basil bisque into each bowl before setting the pot on a clay plate in the middle of the table. "But since it's your first day, it's alright to take things a bit easy."

Ori looked down at his bowl very shyly. Everyone was so kind to him, and it really warmed his heart-- the entire situation made him extremely lucky and extremely touched. Although, he only just managed to stutter out a "Y-yes, Helmi Guchirînh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. Every time I try to write something, more things pop up that need explaining, haha.
> 
> Next chapter will feature the basics of calligraphy and bathouses.
> 
> There aren't really any culture notes that need explaining in this one, I think.
> 
> Edit: Yes there are
> 
> Culture Notes: 
> 
> Inking stove  
> The inking stove is based on the Brick Rocket Stove. Rather than a protruding chimney, however, it's all build like a box.
> 
> Language Notes:  
> Aodhagán -- prounounced "AY-gahn"  
> Áedán -- pronounced "AY-dahn"


	6. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The basics of calligraphy and inkstick-making

  
They all broke their bread and mixed it into the soup, and together they ate. It was mostly Helmi and Aodhagán who chatted together, the latter being extremely lively and gesticulating excitedly while he recounted his morning anecdotes. Ori listened on cheerfully, and spooned his sop into his mouth. It felt so comfortable that, before he knew it, half-twelve had rolled around, and they were finishing up their after-lunch pot of tea.

Hellä and Ori retreated to the kitchen to wash dishes while Aodhagán made his way to the front of the shop. Helmi, however, set a pot of water to boil. Afterwhich, she crossed the kitchen to retrieve a second pot and the jar of hide glue. She emptied the amber substance into the pot, and waited patiently by the workbench for Hellä and Ori to finish up.

"First things first, we must heat up the hide glue," said Helmi, once the two dwarrows had crowded around the pot with her. "As you can see, it's dry right now, and cut up into little pieces. Now, in order to make it into a glue, we must add water and heat the mixture slowly over an hour and a half or so. So, if you could Oriyith, please fetch some water?"

He did as he was told, grabbing a bucket from the corner and hauling it back to the workbench, where Helmi hoisted it up and gently tipped it over the pot, pouring in just enough water to cover the granules with an inch to spare.

"Now, we've just got to leave it on the boiling pot for the next two hours or so, then we can begin the next step," explained Helmi. "If you could, please stir the pot every fifteen minutes or so between your writing practices. "

And they followed her back into the dining room, where Helmi set up blotting boards, stacks of paper, pencils, inkwells, and pens. Hellä sat right down across from her mother, picking up a pen and getting started on some previous practice. However, as Ori made to sit next to Helmi, she handed him a folded bundle instead.

"This is an apron for you," said Helmi. "We always wear them just in case. You never know when someone might accidently knock over a bottle of ink, or splash themself while painting. It'll keep your clothes clean, although it won't protect against putting your elbow in an inkstone."

"Ah, thank you very much, Helmi Guchirînh," he smiled, and pulled the black apron over his head, tying it around his waist the same as Hellä and Helmi.

"I want to get you started out on stroke practice for today, Oriyith," Helmi began. "Now, you've learned how to read and write in Garden School or at home, no doubt. And while it's excellent for everyday use, such a basic level of handwriting is not acceptable for most scribe work.

"But before we can even begin with calligraphy, we have to prepare your work space. You're going to need a lot of room, and some basic tools and supplies for every job. Those supplies are: your blotting board, your inks and weighted inkstands, your pencils, your bread, your paper, a straight-edge, and most importantly, your pens.

"Your straight-edge," continued Helmi, picking up a thrice-folded-and glued piece of paper. "Your straight-edge and pencils are for marking guidelines. Starting out, you'll need to use them at all times, though as you improve and reach journeyman level, you'll no longer be required to practice with them, but you will always use them for commissioned works. You use your pencil to mark the guidelines, and your bread to erase them. The bread won't erase the ink, though, no matter how much you try, haha.

"When it comes to marking your guidelines, you'll want to try to line up your straight-edge with the edge of your paper, and use it as a guide. The reason for this is because you have four sides to your paper. The space in which you are writing must be symmetrical-- it must be an equal distance from the top, bottom, left, and right of your paper, and all in straight lines. If it's not symmetrical, your eyes will naturally start picking up on the additional angles of your guidelines, which, on top of having to re-cut the paper, will make it more difficult for you to write.

"So, lining up your straight-edge with the top of your paper, please use your pencil and trace the bottom edge of the straight-edge."

"Y-yes, Helmi Guchirînh," said Ori with a start, and he did just so, marking a line from one end of the page to the other.

"Good, good," Helmi chirped, and she drew a guideline onto her paper as well. "Easy enough, right? This line is the bottom of your guidelines, also called your base or ground line. That's because it's the base on which all of your letters will stand. Now, in order to figure out how tall the rest of your guidelines need to be, we have to first decide on which pen we're going to use.

"When it comes to Khuzdul, reed pens are the best. This is because they produce strong, thick strokes, which are very pleasing to the eye when our language is concerned. However, for Elvish, you'll want to use goose or crow feather pents. This is because their alphabet has many slim, curving strokes as well as small dots that indicate vowels. And then, with Westron, Goosefeather with a wide nib is just fine, or even thinly-carved reed pens will suffice. A medium-width nib will be what you're looking for.

"Now that we've chosen our pen-- the reed pen-- we need to figure out how tall our guidelines for this pen nib will be. To do this, we'll need to draw a nib stepladder or a nib staircase," At this point, Helmi uncorked her ink bottle, which sat in a heavy and ornate metal holder, and dipped the tip of her pen in. "Holding your pen so that the nib is flat against the paper, and at about a fourty-five degree angle, you're just going to mark little squares, like so."

Beginning against the base line, she proceeded to pen solid little blocks, one diagonal corner touching the next, until she had a perfectly ascending staircase of black.

"Draw six steps, starting from your base line and ascending like so. The top step, here, is where you'll be ruling your second guideline. This will be your waist line, or half the total height your letters can be written to."

She ruled the page with one quick swipe of her pencil. Then, writing directly onto her straight-edge, she measured the height between the two lines. She made little markers above the waist line and below the base line, so that each of the four guidelines was six stepladders high, and then she continued:

"This line here, which I've drawn above the waistline, is called the Ascension line. It represents the highest height to which a letter may be written. For Khuzdul, you will always write to reach this line. However, for Westron and Elvish writing, most of the letters will only go to the Waist line, while only a few of the letters will extend all the way up to the Ascension line.

"This line here, which I've drawn below the baseline, this is your Descension line. In Khuzdul, we never use this line. However, as with the Ascension line, you'll have some of the Westron and most of the Elvish letters dip down to touch the Descension line.

"We also have another guideline, which is drawn between the Ascension line and waist line. It's called the Cap line, but it is mostly used in Westron. This is because Westron, unlike Khuzdul and Elvish, have two sets of letters, one **Capital** set and one **Lowercase** set, and the **Capital** set will always go to this Cap line.

"Now, Oriyith, I want you to use your straight edge, and mark guidelines for the entire length and height of your paper. Then, after you've done that, I want you to lable all of the guidelines with their names: Descension line, Base line, Waist line, Cap line, and Ascension line."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirînh," nodded Ori, and he took his pencil in hand. "Do you want me to mark and lable the cap lines as well, even though we're not learing Westron right now?"

"Yes," nodded Helmi. "Although, you're correct, Oriyith, we won't be using that line much today."

Ori did as he was told, meticulously measuring and marking each line from the top of the page to the bottom. When he'd finished, he was made to mark a second, a third, a fourth. In total, he'd ruled and labled fifteen sheets of paper.

"Very good," replied Helmi. "Now, onto the actual writing part. In order to more easily write straight, bold lines, you'll need to hold your pen so that it is at a fourty-five degree angle to your lines, like so." And here she drew a small dash mark under the Waist line with her reed pen.

"You must keep the nib at a fourty-five degree angle to your line. Any smaller or larger the angle, and your strokes will not be of uniform breadths.

"So, the first stroke we'll learn is a perpendicular stroke. You'll start at your fourty-five degree angle, and end on your fourty-five degree angle. There should be a slight rise at the top and bottom of your strokes, like pointers, and the right or top end of your nib should be consistently in contact with the paper. The shape should be uniform, like so."

Helmi penned ten perfectly straight lines across her paper. Each one was solid and crisp against its white background, and each one was uniformly spaced.

"Then, with Horizontal strokes, you'll do the same, keeping your pen at a fourty-five degree angle as well. For every letter in Khuzdul, in fact, you'll keep this angle. By learning to keep this angle when you write, you'll ensure all of your strokes are consistent, and thus easy and pleasing to read.

"So, starting from the Ascenstion line, I want you to make one-hundred vertical strokes, all of which meet at the base. Then, I want you to make one-hundred uniform horizontal strokes on the Waist lines.

"And finally, I want you to write one-hundred diagonal strokes in each direction. Each diagonal stroke," and here she scrawled twenty of them in succession, first descending, then ascending.

"Each diagonal stroke must be the same length as your nib staircase. In order to achieve this, you must measure your staircase, and draw vertical guidelines to create a box. Within these boxes, you will begin in the upper left, and end in the bottom right, from ascension to base. Then, starting on your second hundred, begin in the upper right, and end in the bottom left, from ascension to base.

"You can see that, in keeping my fourty-five degree pen angle, each stroke has come out slightly thinner than the horizontal and vertical strokes. That's how I hope yours will turn out. Now, if you will, please draw me an example of each stroke: Vertical, Horizontal, Diagonal ascending, and Diagonal descending."

And this, Ori did, measuring out his boxes and very carefully penning each stroke. It was easy enough, it just took a bit more time than the scratching way he'd learned to write at home.

"Very good, Oriyith," encouraged Helmi. "This will be your only practice for today. Once you've finished all of your strokes, please call me, and we'll begin making the inksticks. But remember: the most important things here are quality and form, so take your time to ensure you only give me your very best."

Ori nodded determinedly. "Yes, Helmi Guchirînh."

"I'll be just in the receiving room with Aodhagánith if you have any questions at all that our Helläith cannot answer."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirînh."

And she exitted the room with a faint swish of the doorhangings.

Over the better part of the next two hours, Ori sat with his both elbows on the table, hunched over, very delicately measuring, penciling, and inking all four-hundred strokes. Every fifteen minutes or so, he and Hellä would stand up and stretch or walk around the table before going back into the kitchen to stir the ink. Somehow, eventually, he finished as the clock was striking four.

When his last stroke fell, he pushed back his chair with a sigh. Hellä noticed, and looked up from her own writings with a tired, but cheerful expression.

"Still going?"

"Just finished," smiled Ori, holding up a few of the pages. He'd done his best to conserve some of the paper by evenly, but closely spacing the strokes, to the point that they would have appeared to have straight lines run across them were it not for the empty spaces between the descension lines and the base lines.

"Ooh, that's pretty good, considering its your first time!" she chimed, sitting back in her chair and stretching. "I remember it took me so long when I started on the strokes, but it's a really necessary practice. Yours look great so far."

Red heat pooled in Ori's cheeks and he put his papers back on the table. "Th-thank you.."

"I guess we can go tell Amaa, then, so we can start to make inksticks. I need a break from copying these letters."

Ori stood and stretched his arms high over his head, giving a great, deep yawn. As she stood, Hellä yawned empathetically into the back of her hand. Ori shuffled his papers a bit, sneaking a glance at her from the corners of his eyes. He soaked in the way she charmingly pressed both of her lips to the backs of her curled fingers, both of her elbows crooked, her free hand lightly touching the back of her head.

And then the moment was broken, and they were walking through the fabric that hung in the receiving room's doorway. They were greeted by the sight of Aodhagán's firey mane at the nearest end of the long receving desk. The mirrors hung around the room reflected the light in such a way that it shone brightly throughout the chamber, and each of his apricot hairs glowed translucent in the afternoon light.

Seated on the opposide end was Helmi, her stormy eyes brought to fierce relief as the light reflected off of the clear grey pools. She hadn't seemed to notice them, but rather dipped her featherquill into her inkhorn, lightly blotting it before sweeping it adroitly across her parchment.

"Amaa," Hellä called, causing both Aodhagán and Helmi to lift their heads and look their way, as if awakening from some secret spell. "Amaa, Oriyith's done with his stroke practice."

"Ahh, very good, Oriyith, very good," replied Helmi, and she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I'll be there in just a moment."

"O-okay."

Delicately, they gathered their assignments and cleaned off their nibs, stacking the papers, the inkhorns, the pens, the pencils, and the breads upon the empty space on the library table, and then they were standing in front of the kitchen waiting for the pot to boil. Hellä leaned against the workbench, across from Ori, almost exactly the same as the day previous.

"This is kind of interesting," Hellä mused. "I've only ever made inksticks with Amaa once."

"Oh?" inquired Ori. "Why's that?"

"You're about to find out, haha!" interrupted Helmi with a laugh. She entered the room wearing a change of clothing-- stained and black. Inkclothes. "Now the glue is nice and melted and easy to work, so we can add it to the soot."

She delicately opened up the soot paper from Halewid, which was packed up like a sack of flour, and carefully poured it onto a large mixing bowl. Rolling up her apron around the handle of the glue pot, Helmi lifted it up and off of the boiler, and slowly poured the hot, viscous amber into the black soot. Delicately and slowly, she folded it into the soot with a spoon, mixing it like one might flour-- and in fact, she did this until it was gellatinous.

Then, Helmi took from the cupboard a folded sheet of wax paper, which she spread out along the top of the worktop. Dusting the paper with soot, much like a baker would, she emptied the jelly onto the bench and began kneading it. She kneaded and kneaded the dough-like substance, her hands and forearms blackened by its flour.

"Normally," began Helmi, "after the Master has kneaded it for a long while, the dough would be cut and weighed, and incense or perfume would be added to each cut. However, because we're not making them professionally, we'll just be aproximating the cuts and pressing them into the molds."

She tipped her head to the side. "Oriyith, be a dear and grab the square wooden molds out of that cupboard? And Hellä, please prepare some string."

Ori located them right away, small and laquerred, they were little wooden boxes stacked one on top of the other. Each one had a simple rectangular cast for simple rectangular stones-- they would produce a much less delicate and beautiful stick than master U-Sohn's.

Helmi was cutting up the dough now, dividing it into four even pieces and pressing them into the molds. There was superfluous dough, but it was not enough to fit one of the remaining molds, and so it had to be thrown out. Ori pressed each wooden box closed tight while Hellä bound them up with strings.

"And they have to dry like this for one month?" inquired Ori as he held the mold firmly in place.

"No," answered Helmi. "They have to be continually pressed in these wooden molds for at least half an hour. Then, they can either be hung up to dry or submerged in ash to dry that way.

"Hanging them or letting them airdry is much longer than ash drying, and usually takes about a month for these little ones, but it yields sticks that will not break or crack when you use them. Drying them with ash is faster, and only takes about a week, but you risk the sticks becoming more brittle as a result."

Helmi folded up the wax paper, and tossed it into the hearth and, placing the blackened bown and glue pot into the sink, she poured what was left of the boiling water over them for wash.

"So, Oriyith," said Helmi. She wiped her hands on her apron and ink clothes, although they still appeared black and dirtied. She poured a bit more water into the sink, and did her best to wash up the dishes, but they'd need a second scouring. "Do you remember how much the ink sticks cost us at Master U-Sohns stall?"

Ori thought back. "I don't remember, Helmi Guchirînh."

"One basic black inkstick: 3 copper. And can you remember at all how much the animal hide glue and the soot cost together?"

Ori shook his head. "I only remember the hide glue was 4 copper."

"Correct, Ori. the hide glue was 4 copper, and the soot was 1 copper. So, our total cost for making four inksticks is 5 copper. A little more than one copper a piece. So why do we buy them instead of making them?"

Ori thought on it. The biggest problem with the inksticks, in his opinion, was that they took so long to make, and then to dry, but there must've been more.

"Because..," he began. "Because they take such a long time to make, Helmi Guchirînh?"

"Precisely, Ori," she nodded, letting the dirty water run down the drain before splashing a bit more over the pots. "Because it takes such a long time to make it, because we're unsure of the quality even after having spent the time to make them, because we don't know how to polish them or embellish them, and because even if we made an excellent batch this round, we don't have the expertise or the funds to make it consistantly. And so, the fastest thing to do is to buy them from Master U-Sohn. This way, we not only have time to do our own work, but we're contributing to the life of his trade-- which, again, takes over twenty years to master after becoming a journeyman."

"I'll boil more water to wash up these pots, if you want to take Oriyith and get him situated in his room," Helmi continued. "After that, I think we'll walk over to the bathhouse while Aodhagán's still here to watch the store, so get him a bathing bag to take with him."

"Okay," Hellä nodded, throwing a friendly grin to Ori and motioning towards the dining room. "Come on, Oriyith."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit, the bathhouse scene isn't until the next chapter.


	7. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bath house, part the first

Hellä and Ori climbed the stairs to the first landing, and walked out into the hallway.

"As I was saying before," began Hellä, opening the first door in the left. "This is my room here."

Closing it and crossing the short distance, she opened the first door on the right. "And this is your room now."

Ori peered inside. It was a simple enough room, wider than his own at the teashop, but starker as well. His bags were sat upon his bed in the corner, and simple green curtains hung half-open on the enormous window.

"Looks nice," he remarked as Hellä pulled the door closed.

"Yeah, it looks a lot bigger without my brother inside, haha!" replied Hellä. "And Amaa'll be getting you a desk n stuff out of storage as soon as she's got some free time, so it'll be really comfortable when you want to work."

She walked a ways down the hall (at the end of which was an enormous curtained window as well) and opened the second door on the left.

"Water closet," she displayed briefly. "But, like I said, we don't have quills, so you have to refill the cistern here with water from time to time. Not a big deal, though."

"And this is the closet," she continued, opening the final door in the hall. The light smell of clean linens and lavender-fragranced soap wafted out.

"When you go to the community bath," Hellä began, taking four cloth bags from the linen closet and passing one to Ori. "You have to wash up before you get in the bath. That's because it's a big hot spring where everyone goes to relax and soak up some minerals, but no one wants to swim around in your dirt, you know? So, unlike private baths, you gotta scrub all of the dirt off before entering the tub."

"There'll be a little room when you first walk in for males to clean off in," she continued, passing a small towel, a washcloth, a pumice stone, and a soap bar wrapped in wax paper into each bag. "You just take a bucket and a dipper, and use your pumice and your washcloth and your soap to scrub up. It shouldn't be easy to miss, there'll be other dwarves there. If you're feeling unsure, just copy someone else.

"Then, as far as your clothes go, just fold them up and put them back in your bag, and put them on one of the shelves or hang it in a hook or something. It costs a little money, Amaa will give you a copper, but I wouldn't take more than that in there. Most folk are pretty honest, but if you take a lot of money or something to the bath, it could get stolen. "

"Ahh," nodded Ori, drawing the strings closed on his own bag. "Okay.."

"Don't worry too much," said Hellä, clapping Ori on the shoulder with a laugh. She closed the closet door and headed back down the stairs with him in-toe, just in time to run into Helmi, who was making her way up.

"I got the bags," Hellä chimed. "I got a bag for you n 'Adaa too."

"Very good, thank you," her mother replied, having stopped on the floor-one landing. "I'm just going to change out of these inking clothes, and we can go."

"Okay."

Stepping to one side, they walked down, and out into the receiving room where sat Aodhagán, hunched very low over his paper.

"We're gonna be going to the bath soon, Aodhagánûnn," chirped Hellä.

"Ahh, grand, that's grand," he smiled as he finished up his marking, then sitting back and looking up to the dwarrows.. "Nothin like a good soak in a spring to wash away all a' yer weariness yeh? And I'll be here watchin the store, I guess? haha"

"That's the plan, haha!"

"Aodhagánûn, may I ask what you are working on?" Ori ventured to inquire, peering over Hellä's shoulder at the page upon the receiving desk.

"This?" said Aodhagán, looking from his paper to Ori. "This? This is just a copy of the bookkeeping for the washer next door. Enthralling, I know, haha!"

"Well," and here, Ori smiled a little shyly. "I do suppose it's very important to the washer, after all."

"True, very true. Although, not nearly as fun as writing my own things, I'll say!" Aodhagán laughed.

"And may I ask what it is you enjoy writing the most, Aodhagánûn?" Ori continued.

"Yeah, Aodhagánûn," Hellä followed up with a conspiratorial grin. "What's your favorite thing to write?"

"Well," he began, his eyes twinkling mischievously."If you must know, dear Oriyith-- if you're absolutely plagued by the unquenchable curiosity-- then I'll tell you, oh yes. I'll tell you, young master. My favorite thing to write, it is neither adventure nor battle books as you may have assumed by my supremely dwarfly countenance, nay. That which brings me the absolute most joy to write is, in fact, neither adventures nor tutorials nor dossiers--"

"Ohh," Hellä interrupted. "Just get on with it, then, Aodhagánûn, haha!"

"I write romance novels."

Ori choked. Aodhagán was smiling, but with a very determined look in his eyes.

"A-ah," Ori managed. "Is that so?"

"Aye."

"Well," he continued. "I think that's lovely."

Aodhagán burst into delighted laughter. "Lovely? You think that's lovely? How kind! So kind. What a polite little dwarrow!"

Hellä, meanwhile, clapped Aodhagán on the shoulder between his shrieking laughs.

"He really does, though, Oriyith," she continued through a grin. "And they're quite good, you know? They all play the long game, to the point that you practically feel angry before it's all done, haha."

"A-aye?" asked Ori through an unconfident smile. "May I ask what's the long game?"

"It's a story that explores the couple's relationship from the first meeting til the eventual climax, which is portrayed through a first kiss, or a confession of some sort," explained Aodhagán. "Basically, you watch their love story unfold slowly, over the course of the work, so that it's more naturalized. Compared to most stories, where the author has the lovers instantly fall in love for no profound reason other than the fact that they're in the same story together and they're attracted to eachother."

"If you've been reading so long that you feel angry that they haven't confessed their love to one another," added Hellä, "That's how you know it's a long-game, haha. It makes it that much sweeter when they finally do fess up."

"Alrighty!" said Helmi upon entering the receiving room. "Let's get going, then. We've got to stop by the tanner's and take that bag to 'Adad before we can take a bath."

And so they left, bidding farewell to Aodhagán. This time, rather than walking straight out and heading towards the market square, they turned right out of the scribehut, walking West off of one of the smaller roads leading away from the circlette. They padded their way along, mostly going straight along side streets before eventually turning right onto a main road Helmi and Ori had taken before.

Ori pulled Nori's map from his pocket. It was just as he'd thought-- the northern part of the city, which was moreso the heart of Ered Luin than the south, was arranged like a great large carriage wheel. The circles and circlettes arranged about eachother so that their spokes were the many interlacing roads and side streets and alleyways.

The larger of the circles Ori assumed to be the marketplaces, while the smaller ones seemed to be pockets of businesses similar to the circlette. The Book, meanwhile, was marked with a red drawing of a building. Another such building was marked, farther to the West, but Ori wasn't quite sure what that one meant, as there was no label upon it other than its distinguishing red ink.

"What've you got there, Oriyith?" inquired Hellä, who had taken to strolling alongside him. "Is that a map?"

"Y-yes," he replied. "My brother Nori wrote it for me. He's always been good at that sort of thing-- finding his way around city's and buildings and stuff. As for my brother Dori and me, not so much, haha.."

"Well, that was kind of him! Drawing it out for you like that. Just look at all the details!" and here Hellä oohed. "It's the scribehut, right there! It's our house! Wooooow.

"Really, it's expertly made, Oriyith, even the proportions and everything seem pretty spot-on. Why didn't your brother want to be a cartographer?"

Ori thought for a moment. Why did Nori join the Locksmiths' Guild? He'd been too young to really care about it when Nori went away, only having been about 22 at the time.

"I guess it's just his hobby, making maps for himself," answered Ori. "Kind of like how knitting is my hobby, but I wouldn't want to spend my whole life doing it."

They turned left, and then left again, and entered the tanning yard. Compared to that morning, there were a lot less dwarves walking around outside now.

"Ahh, they must be eating now," muttered Helmi. "Well, I suppose it's getting rather late, though."

Regardless, she marched up to the heavy front door of the tanner's store and entered. There again, now standing behind the desk, was Uhlrick. He gave a surprised little 'oh!' when they entered.

"Helmihn!" he bleated, walking around the desk to meet her. "Good to see you back again. What may I do for you?"

"Hullo again, Uhlrickûn," replied Helmi, holding out one of the bathing bags (which Uhlrick took instinctively). "Could you please give this to our Ukko? We were a little busy this morning, and I think he forgot to take one."

Uhlrick nodded, folding it under his arm and promising to pass it on, and they were out the door and on their way again.

Left, left, and straight again, they trudged on until they hit the second main spoke. There, they turned left, and made their way northeastwards until they reached another circlette. At the end of this circlette, sitting right across from where the main road bled into it, stood a very grand building at least three stories high, and at least three times the breadth of the Book.

"Welp," said Helmi as she stopped briefly in front of it. "There's the bath house. Second floor is for private baths, and the bottom has got the public ones."

"Ahh," nodded Ori, who gazed at it in amazement, not having expected such a large facility. The tall, heavy doors (which were expertly carved and lacquered) stood propped open, revealing the receiving room within. They made their way inside, whereat there was little more to the reception than a long desk and a hallway, flanked at either side with tall, heavy doors (although these doors remained closed).

"Hullo! Welcome!" chimed the elderly dwarf from behind the desk. "Will you be enjoying a private bath today? Or the public ones?"

"Just a public bath today, I think," said Helmi, and she fished three coppers out of her pocket.

"Ahh, very well, my dear lady," the receptionist responded, and he palmed the coppers and tossed them into a box or some sort underneath the desk. He held up his arms and indicated: "To my left will be the the dwarrowdames' baths, and to the right, the gentledwarves'. Please make use of the shelves to store your belongings, and take care to wash off before entering the spring. Would you like to purchase a washing kit? Or towels?"

"Thank you very much," said Helmi. "But we've already got our own."

And now she turned to Ori. "We'll take about ninety minutes in the bath, and then we'll meet you right back here at the receptionists desk, okay Oriyith?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Ori, having just realized that they'd be in completely separate rooms for the next hour and a half. "Oh, yes, okay. Of course."

"So, if we're not here when you get out, just wait here for us, but I think an hour and a half is plenty."

"See you, Oriyith!" smiled Hellä, as she and Helmi broke away and walked towards the dames' door.

"See you," Ori called back, and went his own way. The thick Ipewood door (which featured a delicately-carved mountain scene in its center, surrounded by deeply-cut geometric patterns) was dense and heavy, and when he pushed it open, Ori was hit with a wave of warm, humid air. He let the heavy door swing slowly closed behind him, and stepped into the washing room.

To his right, and into the room, were the buckets and dippers, stacked in a little box made of carved stone. Lined length-wise with the walls, in the middle of the room, stood three stone benches, upon which sat a few stark dwarves who were scrubbing away at their feet with pumice stones. On the walls were faucets, carved deep out of stone, and made to look like stylized animal heads, and situated beneath them on the floor were grated troughs, which acted as drains for the extra water.

Ori grabbed a bucket and a dipper, and set his washing tools inside-- the pumice, the washcloth, and the unwrapped bar of soap-- before stripping down and replacing his folded clothes in the bag. Immediately to the right of the entrance were the shelves and hanging hooks-- on which were already a few sets of clothes and pairs of boots. He set his towel on the top of his clothes in the bag, and pulled the drawstring closed, tying it in a bow and setting it on a shelf next to his shoes.

He walked over to an empty space on the bench and sat his bucket down, turning to face the faucet. It was protruding from the wall, and cut into the shape of an angular fish on waves, flanked on either side with seashell knobs.

 _How charming,_ Ori thought, as he turned the seashell on the right. Water came streaming from the waves beneath the fish in a steamy jet. _Oh! it must come from the spring instead of a cistern._

Emptying his bucket of his washing kit, Ori filled it with hot water, then closed up the faucet. He took a seat on the stone bench, which was cold against his bare skin,and used the dipper to spoon the hot water slowly over his body. it wasn't boiled, but it was hot enough to be a little uncomfortable, and so he took his time about it-- letting the water cool down a little bit in the dipper before ladling it over his skin.

He washed his face and his shoulders before refilling his bucket. This time, he tried turning the seashell on the left, and, unbeknownst to him, the water came out in an icy-cold stream. Ori was so surprised when he ladled the water over his bare chest that he yelped. Luckily, the other three dwarves had left through the door at the back of the room, and had not born witness to his embarrassment.

 _How interesting,_  he thought. _I see. The left one must control water from a cistern, and the right one controls water from the spring._

He added a bit of hot water to his bucket, so that the temperature was lukewarm and comfortable, then poured it all over is head, soaking his hair and chest completely. Now that he could make better use of the facilities, Ori cleaned himself up rather quickly, scrubbing his skin with the soothing lavender soap and scratching away at his feet and ankles with the pumice. Finally, he shook off his pumice, wrapped up his soap, returned his bucket and dipper, and headed towards the bath.

The door at the back of the room, it turns out, led to a little stairwell, which went down for about five stairs, and opened into a wide pool. It was much bigger than Ori could have imagined, managing to take up about the same amount of space as the entire first floor of the scribehut. Its shallow base was cut down into the natural stones of the mountain, and the water trickled into the steaming pool through a small pipe with little change to the rest of the scenery.

Standing tall and strong around about half of the space was a steady wooden wall and roof (no doubt to keep out the rain), as well as smoothe, rounded boulders which were stacked around the perimeter. A few of them, which had flattened tops, sat as makeshift seats inside the bath itself, and the three dwarves Ori had seen in the washroom before were sat upon these. In total, there were five other dwarves in the pool, as well as two dwarrows who swam and splashed in the shallow waters in front of their parent.

Ori sat on the edge of the pool near a little set of stairs and stuck his feet gingerly into the water. It was hot, but not as hot as the water from the faucet had been, and so he eventually felt comfortable enough to submerge both feet, wading around and securing a spot away from most of the others, and finally sitting on one of the stones beneath the water. He soaked his washcloth and wrung it out, pressing it to his forehead with a sigh.

It had been such a long and busy day that the whole thing seemed to stretch on for a week, when in fact just 12 hours ago, he'd been lying awake in his bed at the tea shop. Ori tried to brush the thought away, but he was so exhausted, and his mother had looked so sad when she'd left, and now that he had a moment of uninterrupted peace, those bottled-up memories and the feelings associated with them came rushing out-- surging hotly from his heart and filling him up.

He pulled the warm cloth over his eyes, and slouched down and deeper into the hot bath so that the water could cover his shoulders. Leaning back against the smooth stone that outlined the pool, Ori took several very slow, very shakey breaths. His eyes prickled, and his throat was constricting with every exhale, and he did his best, but the hot little tears streaked down and pooled behind the washcloth.

His mother had looked so sad..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fighting me and fighting me, and I couldn't understand why. Then I took a wordcount, and it was at 6k words. Oops. So, I split it up into two chapters again.
> 
> Culture Notes:  
> Public Bath house  
> The bath house is a mixture of Japanese Onsen and Finnish Sauna's. The second floor has sauna's and baths, and the third floor is where the proprieters live, as well as a storage area and workers' quarters. Dwarves have a reputation for being greedy, but actually, they're really fair, and just have a high appreciation for beautifully-wrought things. So, I don't think the bath would be too expensive.  
> I'm equating 1copper to about US$1. Pretty inexpensive, especially since so many many dwarves use it every day.


	8. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bath house, part the second

"Excuse me, Kuzdhith."

Ori slowly opened his eyes and stared at his washcloth. Someone was standing over him, blocking the light that filtered through the fabric.

"Excuse me."

Ori shook his head and uncovered his eyes. Standing beside him was the dwarf with the dwarrows Ori had seen playing in the water. Now, he was holding one child's hand, and the other was standing behind his brother.

"Ah," Ori started, sitting more upright on his stone seat. "Y-yes? How may I be of service?"

"Ah, no, no. No service to be had here, young one," began the dwarf. "You'd fallen asleep in the bath, is all. We were just leaving, but I didn't want you to catch a cold, and so.."

"O-oh! Thank you very much!" A little surge of panic bubbled in Ori's stomach. "May I ask, do you know how long I was asleep?"

"Maybe twenty or thirty minutes," he replied. "I can't say I was really paying attention."

"Th-thank you so much," said Ori, and the family turned to leave.

 _How lucky..! Good thing they woke me up, it would've been so embarassing to make Helmi Guchirînh and Lady Hellä wait on me.._ He thought with a relieved sigh. _I still have about a half an hour to relax, better be more careful not to get too comfortable._

Splashing some water in his face, he readjusted his washcloth and took in his surroundings. The dwarves who'd been there when Ori had entered were gone, replaced by seven new bathers, as well as a few dwarrows, separated into various chattering groups.

_Ahhh.. because it's getting towards the end of the work day, so I guess the tradesmen are all starting to take baths now._

"Hey, you!" someone shouted. Ori looked around for the source of the noise, and saw two dwarrows wading over in his direction. He looked left and right, but he was the only one in that area of the pool, and he felt a little anxious.

"Yehhhh, you, dwarrow, you."

Ori's shoulders stiffened a bit. He just wanted to bathe quietly and not be bothered by the other _decidedly naked_ youths. But soon they were too close to run away from, and though a bit exasperated, Ori looked up to see two surprisingly familiar faces.

They were both of them relatively fit in the arms, and trim, although posessed still of healthy ammounts of baby fat in their faces and tummies. With their long hair draping and dripping down their backs, Ori hadn't recognised them at first, and now that he did, all he could manage was a rather aloof: "Oh. It's you."

"See that, brother, I told you it was the one at the smithy today," crowed Kili, who sat gracelessly down on the stone next to Ori.

"Oi, don't just plop down next to him like that Kili," Fili chastized. "Not everyone's so comfortable running around naked, you know. Maybe he doesn't wan' us to sit."

"No, please," replied Ori, although rather shyly. "Please sit, I don't mind."

"Sorry," Fili sighed, taking a seat next to Ori on his free side. "He's kind of excited, since we haven't really seen anyone our age in this area."

Ori shook his head.

"I'm Fili Disul. And he's my younger brother Kili."

"Oi oi! I can introduce myself, you know!" said Kili indignantly. "And I'm Kili Disul.. two.. three.."

The two of them bowed in unison, spouting a rather-practiced "At your service."

"Ori Jyriyul, at yours' and your family's."

"So, Ori," begain Kili. "We haven't seen you around. Didja just move here? Where'd you move from?"

"I've just moved from the south-eastern part of the city for my apprenticeship," answered Ori. "I'm apprenticing to Scribe Helmi."

"Oh ho," chimed Fili. "Congratulations! Scribe Helmi, you lucky thing. How long have you been apprenticing?"

"Well, Today is actually my first day. I just moved in this morning."

"Congratulations!" Kili replied, clapping Ori on his bare shoulder. "That must make you thirty-six, eh? Younger than us. Fili is fourty-two, and I'm nearly thirty-eight, heheh!"

"Ahh, so you two're a year and five years older than me.. And how do you like being a blacksmith's apprentices?"

"Aye, it's well enough," Fili answered. "The work's rather hard, but we've learned a lot about making weapons and stuff, and we're able to stay together."

"Yeah. It's interesting, and Halewid Guchirînh produces really excellent work," added Kili "but Fili n me still have to share a bed, since another smith lives above the forge, and Fili's snoring's terrible."

"Oi!" retorted Fili, splashing his brother with water. "How about poor Fili? You always kick me and drool on me in your sleep!"

"I'm surprised you can even feel it," said Kili with a counter splash. "You sleep like a dead rock."

"Rocks aren't even alive, Kili, how can they be dead."

"I know! You're so abnormal, like a dead rock!"

Ori sat awkwardly in the crossfire, giggling as the brothers splashed back and forth at eachother.

"What about you, Ori?" inquired Kili. "How do you sleep?"

"Don't be dumb, Kili, how can he know how he sleeps if he's the one sleeping?"

"Well, maybe he has brothers too, I dunno!"

"I dunno, too," replied Ori as he wrung out his washcloth. "My brothers never said anything. I must sleep like a baby."

"How many brothers have you got?" Fili asked.

"I have two older brothers," began Ori. "My older brother Nori is fifty, and he's in the Locksmiths' Guild, and my oldest brother's name is Dori. He's one-hundred and thirteen and he runs the teashop with my Amad."

"Oh yeah? Where at? Which teashop?" continued Fili.

"It doesn't really have a name. It's in the South-east, down the street from the baker Aatos's shop. Everyone just calls it Lumi's."

"Ahhh," nodded Fili. "We don't really travel south so much, mostly east, and even then, not so much."

"Well, maybe we can go to the teashop together someday," offered Ori.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Kili. "When do you have free time? Do you wanna play with us after the bath today? Or tomorrow?"

Ori looked up at his eyebrows. He felt a little energized from his nap, but in his middle he still ached with tireness. Maybe today was not the best.

"Well," he began. "I don't really have time today, but maybe soon. I don't know what my master would have me do yet. But, I bet we'll go to the forge more, so I'll see you sometimes."

"How about on Yavanna's day?" chirped Kili. "Do you wanna go with us to the night market?"

"I have to ask my master first," replied Ori who, despite the intimidation he felt about the two princes, rather enjoyed talking with dwarves his own age for once, and was getting comfortable again.

"Speaking of Helmi Guchirînh, I should get out of the bath now. I don't want them to wait on me."

"Oh." Kili's shoulders slumped ever-so slightly. "Okay! See you later, Ori! Come n play with us sometime."

"We have free time on even days, if you ever want to come play," Fili called. "See you later!"

Ori beamed and waved at them just before ascending the shallow stairs to the wash room. More and more dwarves were arriving now, passing him on the stairs and busily washing away on the long stone benches. Ori made his way shyly to his shelf, whereon his posessions sat unmolested, but surrounded now by various boots and shoes and stacks of clothing and washing accoutrements.

He unceremoniously dried off with his small towel, and redressed. He'd not thought to take a comb or a mirror with him, though, and so his dripping copper hair hung loose around his face for the time being. Draping the damp towel around his neck, Ori slung his bath bag over his shoulder by the strings, and made for the door.

It swung open before he could touch it, and in walked Ukko and some of the other tanners from the yard.

"Lord Ukko!" exclaimed Ori. "H-hello. Have you just finished with work, then?"

"Oriyith!" responded Ukko with a grin, and he clapped the young dwarf on the shoulder. "Yeah, just finished up for the day. Gonna take a bath, then? Is my wife here?"

"I just finished in the bath," explained Ori. "I'm going out to wait for Helmi Guchirînh and Hellä now. They'll be coming out really soon, if you didn't see them."

"Aye, well," nodded Ukko. "Then I guess I'll be seeing you again for supper. Tell them I said 'hello' for me? That's a good lad."

Ori nodded, and made his way into the receiving room. The sky, which he could see from the propped front doors, was getting dark now, the first of the twinkling stars peeking through the light clouds that hung lazily in the crisp air. It was still too early for the moon, though.  
  
"Ah, Oriyith," a voice chimed, snapping Ori back to the receiving room. It was Helmi, followed by Hellä and two other dwarrowdames exiting the bath.

"Did you wait long?"

"No, I didn't wait long at all. And actually, I just saw Lord Ukko. He wanted me to say hi to you."

"Ahh very well, very well. If he's just getting here, it means we can take our time with supper."

And so, they made their leisurely way out of the bath house and across the circle. The night was growing ever near, cool and comfortable and quiet, and the moon was just making its way up and over the horizon.

"How did you like the bath, Oriyith?" asked Hellä, who was walking on Ori's side.

"It was very comfortable," Ori replied. "Actually, it was so comfortable that I fell asleep, and a really kind dwarf woke me up."

"Oh gosh!" Hellä laughed. "Well, when we get home, we'll get your room set up and stuff, and after supper you can go to bed."

"Y-yes. Oh," and here Ori grinned. "Oh yes, and I saw the princes in the bath, too."

"Oh?!" Hellä exclaimed excitedly. "They were there taking a bath with you?"

"Yes. We chatted for a little while, they were pretty energetic.

"Actually," Ori turned his attention to Helmi who, despite walking ahead of the two of them, seemed to be listening as well. For some reason, he felt a little bit shy to ask her: "Helmi Guchirînh, Do you think we'll have any free time on Yavanna's Day? Fili and Kili asked me to meet them at the night market.."  
  
"Making friends already, Oriyith? That's wonderful. And here I thought you were a shy little lamb," Helmi broke into a toothy grin, and she turned to look at the young dwarrow. "You can go, but I'd feel better if you took our Helläith along with you, since you don't really know the city that well yet."

"Ooooh, yeah! Ori, do you think it's okay if I go along?"

Ori's cheeks reddened. The only way spending hours in a night market with the heirs to Durin could have been improved would have been by the pressence of Hellä, and she was not only enthused at the idea, but had requested it, and addressed Ori as though they were friends.

"S-sure..," he stuttered out, meekly tucking his upper lip to hide his delight. "I think it'll be more fun with more dwarrows."

Hellä clapped her hands together with a small pleased sound. "Ooooh, and maybe Onni can make it, too. It'll be so much fun with the lot of us."

Lanterns flickered to life in the windows of houses as they passed, glowing softly against the brick and softstone walls. Ambling through the streets with their long poles and flint lighters, the lamplighters made their quiet way to each streetlamp before and beyond the little scribe group, illuminating the now-darkened paths.

Comfortably as one could hope, Helmi, Hellä, and Ori chattered on about the upcoming festival as they sauntered into the circlette where sat the Book. In the wide front windows could be seen Aodhagán, seated still behind the receiving desk, his fiery hair glowing in the bright yellow light of the candles within.

"Hullooo, welcome back!" Aodhagán chirped. "Oh, Helmi Guchirînh, you've gotten a book commission whilst you were away."

"Ohh, thank you, Aodhagán. Let me see.. Hellä, could you take the bath bags up and start a fire in the kitchen hearth?"

"Sure, Amaa."

"And get Ori settled in. Get him an oil lamp and candles."

"Okay," Hellä said, taking the bathing bag from her mother and walking towards the kitchen. "Come on, Oriyith."

They padded through the dining room-- which was lit up by the reflected light of the candled chandelier-- and on into the kitchen. Making quick work of the fire, the two of them started up the stairs with candlesticks in hand, and entered the first hallway. Hellä and Ori emptied out the bathing bags, replacing all of the stones and soaps, and then hung their wet towels on the curtain rods in their rooms.

"I took fresh towels today, since they were just laundered a few days ago," explained Hellä. "But you'll use the same towel every time you go to the bath for the next two weeks or so, so I'd dry it on the rods like this, and keep track of it."

"Okay," nodded Ori, and they went up into the second floor, and into the first door on the right.

The storage room, which was about the same size as Ori's room, was stacked and cluttered. Crates sat one upon the other in neat rows, though Ori couldn't quite discern their contents in the weak candlelight. What he could see (rather, what he gracelessly ran into) were two writing desks flanked by several spare chairs.

Hellä dug around in the boxes, procuring for Ori a folded sheet of hinged metal.  
"For reflecting light, so that you don't need to use a big flame," she explained, and she stacked on top of the metal a lantern: a bottle of oil, spare wicks, a flint lighter, a candlabrum, and a handful of slim candles.

"Be sure to take care when you're using the candles, Oriyith," warned Hellä as they exited into the hallway once more. "House full of paper like ours would burn down in no time."

Ori nodded gravely, following her down the stairs and back into his room. There, the both of them sat, candles lit, shooting the breeze as Ori unpacked his bags and placed his posessions on the shelves near his bed. The wall next to him had a protruding shelf built along its length, and with smaller shelves stacked above it, so that there was quite a bit of space for him to store his things-- meager though they were.

He sat upon them his tools from the storage room as well as folded sets of clothing, yarn, knitting needles, art supplies, hair clasps, his combs and grooming tools, and finally his sketchbooks and journal.

 _That's right,_ thought Ori, _I should write about everything I've learnt today in my diary before I forget it._ And this, he set closest to the head of his bed.

The two of them retreated back down the stairs, to a an evening which Ori could barely remember for his exhaustion. Together with Lord Ukko and Aodhagán, the five of them ate porridge with rice in the glowing dining room. Ori listened quietly but contentedly as the boisterous group chattered and drank, recounting the day's anecdotes and pleasantries. His head felt heavy and, combined with the after effects of a filling meal, his eventual trudge up the stairs felt like the most welcome part of his very busy first day. His bed beckoned him sirenously.

Bidding Hellä a pleasant sleep from across the hall, Ori didn't bother with lights as he shuffled into his room and closed his door behind him. He slipped off his shoes, setting them side-by-side as well as he could manage in that dark. Pawing about clumsily in the blackness, he reached his bed. Spring was making its way across the land, and thankfully it wasn't quite time anymore for thick pyjamas, and so Ori stripped down to his socks and longjohns and wriggled in under the heavy duvet. He decided to bother with folding his clothes and writing in his journal in the morning, for as soon as his head touched the pillow, any and all of the energy left in his body spun up and into the air like smoke, and he was blanketed in a dreamless black sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends dear Ori's first day (though it's certainly not the last part of his story!)
> 
> Cultural notes:  
> Holidays:  
> Yavanna is the Valar of the Harvest/things that grow. I wanted to give Yavanna 2 holidays-- Yavanna's Day and Yavanna's Night. Yavanna's Day is loosely based on Beltane, and Yavanna's Night is loosely based on Samhain. Beltane is a festival which marks mayday / the beginning of the pastoral season, and it's celebrated in the hopes that livestock and farmers will have a good year, while Samhain marks the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter (the darker half of the year). It's where modern Halloween comes from (kind of).
> 
> Yavanna's Day:  
> is 'Yavanna waking up,' and so people decorate with may flowers, play with ribboned maypoles, drink the previous year's wines and meads, and celebrate with a huge bonfire and feasting. Afterwards, they lead the livestock to summer pastures and sew summer crops.
> 
> Yavanna's Night:  
> is 'Yavanna going back to sleep,' and so the people slaughter their livestock for winter, enjoy the fruits of harvest, brew new wines and meads, and (because the 'dark night' of winter is starting) celebrate their ancestors who have gone to the halls of waiting.
> 
> Even days:  
> On a calendar, the even-numbered days. 
> 
>  
> 
> Story notes:  
> I don't know how excessive the number of dwarven children are, but Ori'd spent most of his time as a homebody, kept his nose pressed to books and his journal, and he didn't go to Garden school, so maybe it was harder for him to make friends and break out of his shyness.
> 
> As for Fili and Kili, I'd say they're a little hard to approach, being not only royal and rambunctious, but also busy with a very work-heavy trade. Maybe they didn't have a lot of chances to go making good friends.


	9. Tales of the Apprentice Ori, pt.9

Bright blazed the sun that morning, and directly onto Ori's face as he slept; it was about 6 o'clock. He'd been so exhausted the previous night that he'd forgotten to pull the green curtain. 

He lay in the bed for a few moments; it felt a little bit strange to awaken not to the smell of tea or breakfast, but to the slight must of the scribehut.

Ori rolled over, knocking his socks and his tunic off of the bed.

"I wonder when everyone wakes up around here," thought he, and as he leaned over to retrieve them from the floor he remembered his diary, which sat in the shelf nearest to his head.

"Ahhh yes, before I forget again," he said, taking the thing off of the shelf and opening it up to the marked page. He procured a bottle of black ink and his feather quill from his napsack, setting them both precariously on the shelf. He paused. Closing his eyes, he tried hard to remember all that he'd done yesterday.

Eating breakfast, going to market, meeting Master U-Sohn, the inkstone, the inksticks, then back out again, the apothecary's shop with the bright blue door, the tanner Uhlrick, the hunter's children who were very small, the blacksmith Halewid with her high pony tail, the young brother princes, Aodhagánûn and his love stories, making the gall ink, the bathhouse, falling asleep in the bath, meeting those two at the bath, and then..

"Yavanna's day!" he smiled, and he scrawled away into his diary.

When he stopped for a break it had seemed like he was only writing for a moment, when in fact a whole hour had passed, and Helläinh was knocking gently on his bedroom door.

"Oriyith," she called softly. "Oriyith, are you awake yet?"

"I am!" he answered, setting his journal gingerly on the shelf so as not to smudge the current page and stopping the bottle. He pulled on his tunic quickly, and opened the door to her.

"I just have to take my socks and boots, and comb out my hair.."

She nodded to him and laughed, still clad as she was in her long sleeping gown and fleece socks.

"I was just waking you up," said she. "You've got a few minutes yet until we go to fetch the water. Take your time to do your hair, I'll be in your room again when I finish mine."

Behind her, she closed the door with a soft click, and could be heard closing her own door across the hall.

Ori blotted his journal, packed it away, wiped his quill, and pulled out his pocket mirror. He'd forgotten his comb when they took a bath yesterday, and so his bronze tresses were terribly tangled.

"Ama would have a fit," he laughed, and gingerly pulled the wide-toothed comb through the locks.

He braided his hair, straightened up his clothes, marked and closed his diary, and opened his window to let fresh air in. Then, he and Hellä were descending the stairs, and walking out the back of the Book and into the alley way.

A few dwarves were making their groddy way towards the Cistern, water buckets in hand. Mostly were they men, for even in Ered Luin women were few enough, and few of the children were old enough for chores. And others still slept on, for their lives did not require early rising like the farmers or the bakers did, or even as early as the scribes.

Now they returned to the house, and they started in on breakfast.

"Yesterday we ate oatmeal," said Hellä, screwing up her mouth. "Today, I guess we can eat eggs and potatoes, although there are only 5 eggs left.."

She rummaged around in the pantry, producing a small basket of eggs and dragging a sack of potatoes behind her.

"Do you know how to peel them?"

"Yeah," said Ori, "I know how."

She sat the eggs next to the kitchen sink and pulled out a paring knife, but when Ori reached to receive it, she held back. 

"Next to their eyes, a scribe's hands are their most important asset, Oriyith," Hellä remarked sternly. "No matter what, you have to take care of them. Even a small wound can bleed or drip onto paper, and even a small cut can fester and rot. Go slow on the potatoes."

He nodded.

"Alrighty then, you start peeling those, and I'll start up the hearth fire. You see that brown-handled bucket there next to the pantry door? Peel the skins in there. They'll be by to pick up slop on Thursdays around here."

And so Ori dragged the the bucket closer to him, but he couldn't begin work right away. Every mother warns her children about the dangers of knives sure, but this was different. He had never even thought about actively protecting his hands before. Now, looking at the small knife in his hand, he felt a new danger gleaming off its blade. 

It went without incident that Ori and Hellä cooked up fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and brewed a perfect pot of black tea, and it wasn't long before everyone was sitting down to breakfast together.

"Ah, Oriyith," began Helmi, who was seated in her usual place across from him. "Did you sleep well? You were so tired yesterday, I though you'd drown in your soup."

"I slept very well, thank you," Ori nodded happily. "How about you, Helmi Guchirinh? Lord Ukko?"

"Well enough, thank you dear," replied Helmi. Her face, like usual, was set in a good humor. Her mouth scrunched up into a grin, and Ori thought he saw her look out of the side of her eyes at Lord Ukko before she spoke again to him.

"After breakfast, I'd like you and our Hellä to fetch more water. That ink stew will be needing some, and I've got an illumination piece I need to work on. Alright?"

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

"Then, I think today I'll have you practicing a bit more of your measurements and your strokes."

"Yes, Helmi Guchirinh."

"Oh," Helmi looked to her daughter. "And today, I'll need you to be a runner. Take Oriyith with you, hm?"

"Okay Amaa," replied Hellä with a sigh. Ori felt a weak twinge in his heart.

"Sometimes," continued Helmi, "rather than coming in to pick up their pieces, customers will pay to have them delivered. I'd have you two do that first alright?"

Ori smiled and nodded. He'd only been there one day, and felt good about going out to explore the city a bit more.

Lord Ukko, who had finished his breakfast first, stood and stretched. "I'm going now," said he, and with a clinking, he took his dishes to the kitchen. When he returned, he held Helmi's head affectionately in both of his hands, and planted a kiss upon her black hair. She smiled, and closed her eyes briefly; her long eyelashes like black lace upon her cheek. Then the moment was broken, and walking around the table, he kissed Hella's head, and patted Ori's shoulder, and was exited. 

When they'd all finished, and while Helmi washed the dishes, Hellä and Ori retrieved from upstairs two messenger bags. When they'd come down stairs, Helmi was at the library table, which stood next to the dining room door, laiden high with scrolls and papers. Helmi grabbed piece after piece, sorting them and checking them over quickly and coordinating them into the messenger bags. Then she put what looked like a roster in each bag, and handed them off to the two dwarrows.

"You'll be working in the North West today, and there are a few level two deliveries. Say hello to your brother for me, if you see him. And don't forget to give him that care package, alright?"

"I will," replied Hellä, and she turned and smiled. "Welp, come on, Oriyith."

 The two dwarrows set out, walking out of the Book and making a right out of the center of the circle, taking a western road. As soon as they turned the corner, Hellä let out a heavy sigh,

Ori said nothing, but hoisted his bag higher up on his shoulder. He liked Hellä, but he couldn't relax enough. Maybe she felt annoyed that she'd have to keep an eye on him. Why else would she keep sighing so heavily?

"I hate doing this so early in the morning," she laughed, breaking Ori's train of thought. "I mean, It's pretty much a straight shot from here to the main road, but it's just so  _far_."

 _Oh._ Ori's heart lightened a little. 

"Well," continued Hellä. "I guess, at lease we're doing it together. We can chat along the way. If I were by myself, it'd be so boring."

Ori smiled and fidgeted a little. "How do you know which paper belongs to whom? Did you help write them?"

"Well, I helped write some of them," Hellä shook her head. "But Amaa has a really good system. Each scroll and packet is sealed with a paper ribbon and wax, right?"

She stopped, and took from her bag one of the scrolls, holding it up to show him. Now that he got a closer look, he could see clearly the delicate lines of the ruffled pearl-oyster, the Khuzdul 'H' which took the place of the pearl, and a paper strip with writing upon it.

" _Ohhh._ "

"Yeah," smiled Hellä, replacing the scroll and starting on again. "Each one has the recipient's name and location on it. All we have to do is find them. Then the rosters, they'll tell us who ordered what, how much they owe, and we have them stamp-seal it. That way, back at the scribehut, we have a clear record of who received their orders, and who still needs to pick it up or have it delivered."

"That's very clever," laughed Ori. Vaguely, he remembered his mother doing such things, stamping papers when she received certain packages, but only vaguely. "Will we deliver to my Maa, too?"

"Yes! I think once or twice a week, we'll go to deliver to your mother. I'm pretty sure it was in your contract." Hellä said with a very cheerful smile. She laced her hands together happily over her heart. "And she said she'll give us snacks! What a good deal, haha!"

She stopped again, and took out her roster. Her eyes purused over each and every line, and she seemed to be thinking over something carefully.

"Can I see yours too?" she asked, holding her hand out to Ori. "I want to plan out where we go first, to save time.."

He took it hastily out of the bag and passed it over to her. With one list in each hand, she peered and scrunched up her face. After about five minutes, she seemed to have decided something, because she was handing the paper back to Ori and stowing her own roster away in her bag. 

"Our first house is about 10 minutes away," she chirped, and began leading the way again.

"How come so many people in the northwest hire Helmi Guchirinh?" inquired Ori. "Are there no scribes up here?"

Hellä turned, and flashing a confident grin, she said: "It's because she's the best."

On they walked, and when they had reached their first stop, Hellä paused outside the house. She rummaged in her bag, and procured three scrolls; all of which bore the name 'Silis.' 

"Deliveries are pretty straightforward," said Hellä, showing her roster to Ori. At the top of the list, written in neat Khuzdul, were the words: _Silis, 1 nickle, 3 scrolls_. "This list tells us who, how much, and how many. After she gives us the money, she puts her seal here next to her name. Pretty simple."

Hellä turned back to face the door and rapped her knuckles against it three times. Patiently, the two dwarrows waited on the doorstep, until a sleepy-eyed Dwarrowdame pulled open the door.

"How may I be of service, dears?" asked the dame. She scratched her head, and blinked her black eyes tightly.

"I've got a delivery for you, from scribe Helmi," replied Hellä, who held up the scrolls. "You still owe a nickle on them for delivery, though."

"Ahhhhh, yes, my that was quick. Just a moment dear, I've got to get my purse," said Silis with a smile, and she reared back into her house. It wasn't 30 seconds before she returned, though, and presented Hellä with the coin. 

Hellä pocketed the nickle, and held out for the dame the roster. Dabbing first her seal into a little pygg paste box, she stamped her seal in purple next to her name.

When this was done, Hellä handed Silis her scrolls with a shallow bow, and she and Ori were onto the next one.

They visited eleven houses and shops in this way. Some people received several scrolls, others flat illuminations; some paid upon the delivery, and others paid in advance. By the time their bags were half-empty, Ori was starting to feel tired. However weary he felt, though, he enjoyed the day out much more. Everything was new and interesting, and Ori wished he had his diary to keep track of everything, but for today he'd just have to try to commit it all to memory.

"I never really walked around this much when I lived at home," said Ori as he followed Hellä. "I just used to walk to the Garden School and in town, and that was about it."

Hellä laughed. "Well, it'd be awful to do it everyday, I think, but twice a week isn't too bad. Are you tired? Shall we rest?"

But Ori wanted to continue on and see more, so he shook his head. "I can manage a while yet," he said, and hoisted his bag. "Maybe before we walk all the way back we can take a break a while. Unless you're tired. I don't mind if you're tired."

"Nah, I'm fine," assured Hellä, who turned right and onto a main road again.

And on they bantered like this, making their steady way to one of the large spokes, then heading north by northwest along the road. In regards to Ori's mother's house, they were walking to the exact opposite side of the city. They saw more dwarves out now as the sun made its way across the sky. Ori could see that it was almost nine o'clock as they were coming close to the circle which lead to the mines, and to one of the entrances to Level 2.

In fact, Ered Luin was made up of four major parts: There was level one, which was the ground level, where everyone lived in the sun and close to certain trades; there was level two, where dwelt the masons and the metallurgers and those who worked the mines and who dealt in their riches; there was level three, deep down in the earth, whereat great large forges lay, building up monuments, building down and deep, and supplying the armed forces with their weaponry, their armor, and their technology; and then there was level 4, which acted, essentially, as a gateway into the mountain from its base. Many merchants and traveling bands came in and out of Level four, and made their way up into the city. It was the fastest line in, and the only public one.

Almost all dwarven cities were constructed in this way, and since the Erebor diaspora, many of those fleeing came to either Ered Luin or the Misty Mountains, and so the city was expanded downward in similar fashion to the Lonely Mountain. True, it was not nearly as great as that fair city (or so Ori had heard) but people were comfortable here, and almost 46 years later, they'd made due in the fair Blue Mountains, and they'd help to make it greater. But ever was it present in their hearts a longing for home, and an unrest as if someday they'd pick up and return.

Ori's mother Lumi and his brothers Dori and Nori were the same way. Not Nori so much, for he'd been only 4 or 5 when they'd trekked long and far across the westernlands, but Dori had been 67 at the time, and together with her two sons in hand, Lumi had traversed the wide lands with the rest of Thorin's kin. And amongst their people there was sung a song-- for as long as Ori could remember-- a song that changed every year, and recounted a home he'd never known. Before he knew what he was doing, it bubbled up from his belly and out and into the morning air.

_Oh Erebor,_  
 _I long to see you_  
 _Away, you lonely mountain_  
 _That I could return_  
 _to your stone hallways_  
 _Away, I'm bound away_  
 _'cross the wide western lands._

_'Tis fourty-six years_  
 _since dragon's fire_  
 _Away, you lonely mountain_  
 _Tis fourty-six years_  
 _I'm forced to leave you._  
 _Away, I've gone away_  
 _'cross the wide western lands._

_Oh Erebor,_  
 _I'm forced to flee you_  
 _away, to the blue mountains_  
 _Oh Erebor,_  
 _I long to see you_  
 _from home, I've gone from home_  
 _'cross the wide western lands._

_Tis fourty-six years_  
 _since dragon's fire_  
 _away, you lonely mountain_  
 _tis fourty-six years_  
 _since last I saw you_  
 _away, I'm forced away,_  
 _'cross the wide western lands_

_Oh Erebor,_  
 _I long to see you_  
 _Your halls, your mighty city_  
 _Oh Erebor,_  
 _I long to see you_  
 _to home, to journey home_  
 _'cross the wide westernlands._

And as he finished singing the tune, he noticed that Hellä as well had joined in, her voice high and clear like the chime of a bell. And in the silence that fell, the two of them walked through the towering gate, down the steep steps to level two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real time between the desolation of Erebor (2770) and the meeting at Bilbo's house (2941) is 171 years. However! I'm kinda following the movie canon, and since 171 dwarf years is about the same as 57 human years (in terms of aging) I cut the number in half, because I like younger thorin more than older Thorin. :p
> 
> So, rather than 171 years, it's 85.5 years. Rather than 2770, Smaug comes in 2855. 
> 
> The fic itself is set about 40 years before going to Bilbo's (2941) house. 
> 
> Therefor, the timeline I'm going with is:
> 
> 2855 = Smaug (46 years ago)  
> 2901 = Now (present)  
> 2941 = Bilbo's (40 years in the future)
> 
> Okie dokie? :>
> 
> I've also taken some liberty with the ages in the fic. We don't really get cannonical ages for any of them except Fili and Kili, so going with the movie canon, I kinda figured out their ages first, subtracted 40 to make the fic.
> 
> (Assuming Dwarves live to 250, Humans to 80)  
> Name//[Present age] // (Human age) // Dwarven age at time of Quest//(Human Age at Quest)  
> Ori [36] (11.5) 76 (24.3)  
> Nori [50] (16) 90 (28.8)  
> Dori [113] (36) 153 (48.9)  
> Lumi [171] (54.7) 216 (69.1)
> 
> Hellä [40] (12.8) 80 (25.6)  
> Veikko [51] (16.3) 91 (29.1)  
> Helmi [165] (52.8) 205 (65.6)  
> Ukko [175] (56) 215 (68.8)
> 
>    
> Fili [42] (13.4) 82 (26.2) [canon]  
> Kili [37] (11.8) 77 (24.6) [canon]  
> Aodhagán [67] (21.5) 107 (34.2)  
> U-Sohn [37] (37) 77 (77)
> 
>  
> 
> The song "Oh Erebor" is based on the tune for "Shenandoah." Although there are a lot of different sets of lyrics and arrangements.. so I sang it as an example, if you absolutely must hear it (I feel kinda shy, because I recorded it in the dead of night, so it's kinda strained haaaa, turn down your sound a bit): http://vocaroo.com/i/s0FxjVU6V7jz


End file.
